


jigsaw falling into place

by awrfhi



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Smut, a hot mess but hopefully a nice kind of hot mess, like a hearty slice of pie or something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2018-11-06 00:23:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 64,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11024682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awrfhi/pseuds/awrfhi
Summary: when phil accidentally takes dan's suitcase instead of his own after a flight, their lives are suddenly and unexpectedly thrown together. but can something that started out of an accident become something more?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uhhhhh this is the first fic i've ever posted and my anxiety is through the damn roof! i'm sorry if i keep hyping this up and it's a flop i don't know how to do this
> 
> shout out to kenn (frecklie) who's been there for me the entire time i've been writing this and who also forced me to make this a chaptered fic. i love u boo <3

From above, London by night was stunning.

It was a labyrinth of blazing street lights and velvety darkness and pin prick cars scuttling along. More than anything, though, it was home. As soon as he saw it, Phil sighed with contentment and lounged back in his chair, letting his mind become filled with the soothing sound of the La La Land soundtrack. His journey hadn’t been too long, but he could feel himself growing sleepier by the minute.

Once the announcement had been made that the plane would land soon, he removed his headphones and carelessly slung them on the seat beside him. Though his work required him to fly frequently, he still couldn’t handle the landings, and even listening to music could make bile rise in his throat. Squeezing his eyes shut, he gripped the armrests so hard his knuckles turned white and hummed feverishly to try to distract himself.

As it turned out, closing his eyes also made things worse, so he resorted to staring out the window and trying to breathe calmly. The lights from before were growing wider, and they left phosphenes glaring in his eyelids whenever he blinked. When the plane had nearly landed, the ambers and golds of the city faded into the twinkling red and orange lights dotting the runway. 

Shortly afterwards, the plane's wheels hit the ground and Phil exhaled sharply. He’d been doing this for as long as he could remember and it never got any easier. Rummaging through his bag, he found his phone, which was buzzing with a rush of incoming messages.

_Your taxi’s been booked for 10:45. See you tomorrow! Peej_

The time on his phone read 10:13 and he frowned. He knew PJ appreciated punctuality, and Phil always checked into flights so early that his suitcase was bound to be one of the first on the baggage carousel, but even this was pushing his luck.

As soon as passengers could leave, Phil grabbed his rucksack and half-walked half-ran off the plane, hastily thanking the flight attendants. He was immediately greeted with the icy winds of England, which whipped his hair as he made his way down the steps and towards the warmth of the airport building. He sighed and watched as his breath dissolved like sugar crystals into the air. If there was one thing he hadn’t missed, it was the weather.

He’d almost made it to security when something felt off – his neck was unusually bare. Wherever he went, he always wore a pair of headphones, and for some reason they weren’t there. Feeling increasingly panicked, Phil unzipped his bag and felt for anything vaguely headphone shaped. There was nothing, which meant he’d left them on the plane. Shit. Looking at his phone again, it now read 10:21, and a small part of him feared he’d miss the taxi altogether.

It was safe to say Phil and exercise didn’t get along too well, which he was painfully reminded of as he sprinted back towards the plane, throwing out haphazard apologies to confused pedestrians and wishing he could sink into the ground. His heart was hammering in his throat and his lungs were on the verge of exploding. He had no idea how anyone found this enjoyable.

There were still some passengers getting off the plane when he’d made his way back. In most other situations, he would be polite, but he was so pressed for time that he fought his way back up the stairs, wheezing heavily and trying to ignore the numerous death glares pointed in his direction. Once he was on the plane, he weaved inbetween passengers down the rows until he finally found the row he was sitting in.

In the middle seat were his headphones. Phil had never felt so equally relieved and frustrated. They were hastily shoved in his bag whilst he got off the plane for a second time, ignoring the same angry stares from before.

To his relief, the queue for security was shorter than normal. Once he had his passport out of his bag, he shuffled along and tried to tune out the cacophony of voices surrounding him. There was a mother with her screaming children and it took some serious resolve not to yell at them all to be quiet. He knew she was probably just as stressed as he was, and looking around, he saw how everyone else in the queue looked just as exhausted. He felt a pang of sympathy. There was always something lonely about airports, something bittersweet in how everyone was just trying to get to where they were meant to be.

The security officer had a kind, wrinkled face. Her voice was sweet whilst commanding authority, and Phil answered all her questions easily before bidding her farewell and hurrying along, partly because he was running out of time, partly because he was scared she would change her mind and send him to prison for something. She had kind eyes, but they seemed to penetrate him. He felt like she knew every terrible thing he’d ever done and was judging him for them.

When he was at baggage reclaim, it was after 10:30. His previous worries of missing his taxi suddenly became far more real, and staring at suitcase after suitcase was beginning to drive him crazy. The eternal optimist in him hoped that some unknown deity would take pity on him and let him be on time. Running back to the plane had worn him out even more, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed with his new Stephen King novel. There was nothing quite like a good psychological thriller to put your mind at ease. 

His eyes suddenly zeroed in on a suitcase that looked like his. He’d been wearing contacts for a concerning length of time, and his vision had become slightly blurry, but he could recognise it from a mile away: a sleek, petite sized black Samsonite. He hurried through hordes of waiting passengers, grabbed it as fast as he could and ran.

A quick glance down at his phone stated it was 10:43 and he felt like his lungs were going to burst into flames. One of the wheels on his suitcase started squeaking, and as he ran he grumbled about airport staff mistreating his luggage and _oh god I’m so dangerously close to being late PJ’s going to be pissed if I miss this taxi oh god I can’t feel my feet anymore_.

When he could physically no longer run, he settled with walking quickly. There was a group of people waiting behind a metal barrier for passengers to arrive, and his eyes scanned the various signs being held up to see if any had his name on it. Once he saw a sign which read ‘Phil Lester’, he waved to get the man’s attention and nearly fell over from exhaustion.

The taxi driver led Phil to the taxi and took his suitcase from him, frowning slightly at it. Phil got in the backseat and sat with his feet throbbing uncomfortably, watching the world around him spin. Soon the taxi was starting up, and his ears were filled with the thrum of the engine and the tuneless music playing from whatever trashy radio station it was.

Though London from above was beautiful, there was something incomparable to being in it; golden light filled windows and puddles, pin prick cars morphed into roaring machines and there was a certain calmness that came from being in such a bustling city late at night. Phil rolled down his window slightly and let the cool breeze rustle his hair, closing his eyes and feeling content with simply being for a small moment in time. He savoured every moment of it for as long as it lasted, before reality kicked in and he was forced to confront the world again.

“Mr Howell?” the taxi driver asked uncertainly. “This is your stop.”

Phil frowned. “My name’s Phil, not Howard,” he replied with a polite smile. “But this is my hotel. If it was booked in advance it’s £20, right?” 

The driver nodded. Phil fished two £10 notes out of his wallet and handed them forward before getting out of the car. Once he had his suitcase, he thanked the driver before making his way inside, shivering in the chill of the night. 

Checking into any hotel was a well-practiced routine that he probably could have done in his sleep. Sleep sounded good at that point. When he was finally in his room, he unceremoniously flopped onto the bed and groaned. The mattress was so soft that it felt like his body was melting into it, and for the first time in what felt like ages, he was able to relax.

He must have fallen asleep, as when he opened his eyes, they were bleary and his limbs felt numb. Rolling over, he saw through hazy vision the sunlight spilling through the curtains. Morning light cast a silky glow over the entire room, illuminating all it touched. The only sounds he could hear were his soft breaths and a slight breeze whistling through the window. He felt terrible, but seeing the world around him trapped in suburban slumber filled him with a strange sense of clarity.

Blinking slowly, he let his eyes adjust to his surroundings. His feet were hanging off the bed at a strange angle and his suitcase and rucksack had been left in a corner, untouched. The duvet underneath him was tangled between his legs and he kicked it off before stretching out.

As soon as he stood up, he remembered he still had his contacts in and he sleepily padded to the bathroom. Taking them out wasn’t the easiest process, especially when he was still only half-awake and he kept accidentally poking his eyeballs with his fingers. On the plus side, though, he’d remembered to bring his glasses with him, and as soon as he put them on his vision snapped into focus.

Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he almost jumped. Parts of his hair were sticking up in strange tufts, both of his eyes were bloodshot and his skin had seen better days. In all honesty, he looked like he’d done several lines of cocaine and passed out in a ditch somewhere.

To wake himself up, he splashed his face with cold water and watched as it streamed down his face in icy rivulets. Any signs of sleepiness began to slowly fade away, and feeling significantly refreshed, he went to unpack his things.

Phil was one of those people who had the same password for everything. His friends called it stupid, he called it convenient. Yes, if he got hacked he’d be in trouble, but he figured nobody would bother hacking his twitter when he only used it to tweet about dogs and stalk hot guys he found during late night lurking sessions.

This also applied to padlocks he had on his suitcases. He turned his suitcase over and laid it flat, feeling for the padlock to twist the dials to the relevant numbers. When he couldn’t find any, he frowned. He’d woken up enough to know that he wasn’t dreaming, but something felt wrong. Examining the padlock further, he saw it didn’t have any, but required a key instead. He didn’t have a key. What was perhaps more concerning, though, was the fact that he didn’t own any padlocks that needed keys.

His heart started thumping uncomfortably in his chest. He wanted to pinch himself, to suddenly wake up and realise he’d been asleep this whole time, but he couldn’t. This wasn't a dream. He felt ill.

In the light, the suitcase looked more navy than black, and something bright caught his eye. It was a leather name tag. Phil definitely didn’t own one of those. Turning it over, it read:

_Daniel Howell_

_07276834914_

That was when he realised. The squeaky wheel, the taxi driver calling him the wrong name, the slight weight difference he’d noticed, it all made sense. This didn’t belong to him.

The only question was who the hell was Daniel Howell, and how had he ended up with his suitcase?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u so much for reading! i was gonna say 'like comment and subscribe' but i guess the ao3 equivalent of that is comments and kudos lmao
> 
> no but seriously i crave validation. also my tumblr is awrfhi so follow me there and talk to me about dogs i'm lonely


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's chapter 2! please bear with me whilst i try and figure out how ao3 works i have no clue what i'm doing. i keep saying that but uhhhh it's true
> 
> also thank u so much to anyone who's already sent me nice messages about this :( i love u all and i hope u enjoy <3
> 
> (just a warning in advance that this chapter contains mentions of alcohol)

It took PJ five minutes to stop laughing. During this time, Phil threatened to hang up on multiple occasions, but he was desperate and PJ was one of the most practical people he knew. If anyone had a solution to the mess Phil had found himself in, it was him.

“There are actual tears,” he wheezed. “That’s one of the funniest things I’ve ever heard.”

“You’re not helping!” Phil replied, exasperated. Half a day had passed since he’d realised he had Daniel Howell’s suitcase and he still had no idea what to do.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Have you tried calling customer service? People probably do stuff like this all the time.”

“I have. They had nothing in the lost and found,” Phil said, recalling the traumatic conversation he’d just had. The lady who he’d spoken to had made a pointed reminder that ‘any stolen or lost items are your responsibility, Sir’. He’d wanted to scream into a pillow.

There was a short pause. The air was thick with static and the steady drumming of Phil’s heartbeat. If PJ didn’t even know how to help him, he was in trouble.

“So if they had nothing in the lost and found, that means someone must have taken your suitcase, right?”

“Right.”

“And if you accidentally took- what’s his name-"

“Daniel Howell,” Phil interjected, the corners of his lips perking up at the name.

“-Daniel Howell’s suitcase, then there’s a possibility he took yours by mistake, right?”

“Peej! You’re a genius!” Phil laughed, mentally cursing himself for not having thought of that.

“No need to flatter me,” PJ replied. “Have you checked the suitcase for any means of contact?”

“There’s a phone number on the name tag. How d’you think I found out in the first place?”

“You mean to tell me you’ve had the man’s phone number this entire time and you didn’t think to call him? You really are a knob sometimes, Phil.”

Phil grimaced at that. He’d had his fair share of mistakes in the past (accidentally dyeing his hair bright orange, to name one), but forgetting he had Daniel’s phone number was almost as embarrassing as finding out he had his suitcase.

“Well, my apologies,” Phil huffed, after an uncomfortably long silence. “I’ll call him now. Thanks for the help.”

“Any time. Keep me updated.”

As soon as the line went dead, Phil heaved himself off the bed and typed Daniel’s number into his contacts. He was tempted to press ‘call’, but he hesitated.

In all fairness, it was understandable. Daniel Howell could be the world’s scariest man and he wouldn’t even know. He could be furious with him for taking his suitcase, he could take him to court, hell, he could have the power to crush his neck in one hand-

Phil stopped that train of thought before it became too violent. If he was anything like him, this Daniel was probably just as concerned for his own belongings as he was, even more so considering Phil didn’t have any identification on his suitcase. Since Daniel had no way of contacting him, the only option was for Phil to step up and call him.

As soon as he pressed ‘call’, any brave façade he’d put up immediately disappeared. How was he supposed to introduce himself? What was he supposed to say? His palms already felt clammy.

Before he had any time to think, a voice said “hello?”

Phil almost spontaneously combusted. Daniel Howell’s voice was smooth and liltingly southern. It made his own voice, with its northern twang, feel inferior.

“H-hi!” Phil choked out, wincing as he stuttered.

“Hello,” the voice repeated, laced with amusement. “Who’s this?”

“Uh… you don’t know me, but my name’s Phil. Phil Lester. I, uh, got back from a flight yesterday and I think I accidentally took your suitcase instead of my own?”

Even through the phone, Phil could tell he’d stunned him into silence. His heart started beating even faster.

“Sweet Jesus,” the voice said at last. “Thank you so much for calling me. I’ve been worried sick. And you’re sure it’s mine?”

“Well, I have a medium sized navy Samsonite which has this number on it. If you’re Daniel Howell, I’m fairly certain it’s yours.”

“That would be correct,” Daniel chuckled. “Which leads me to believe I have your suitcase? They are very similar.”

“They are,” Phil agreed. “I'm hoping you have mine, anyway. Would you be available at some point soon to swap them back?”

Every stupid word that tumbled out of his mouth got worse and worse. He wouldn’t be surprised if Daniel was a little taken aback at his sudden bluntness. They’d been talking for less than a minute and he was already trying to make arrangements.

“If only that were possible,” Daniel said, sighing. “I know you want to get your stuff back, believe me, I do too, but I’m super busy the next couple of days. If you want, though, you can borrow some of my things. I don’t mind.”

Phil’s heart stopped. “Really?”

"I don't see why not. It's better than wearing the same outfit for days on end. Besides, I was hoping you'd let me do the same."

"I, uh, of course!" he replied. "But your padlock requires a key?"

“That’s a very good point. I’m sure there are ways of breaking into a suitcase without unlocking it. Google has answers for everything.”

This was such an absurd situation that Phil had to stop himself from laughing. Sure, his mother used to tell him that nothing was impossible, but breaking into a stranger’s suitcase wasn’t something he’d ever imagined himself having to do. Opening a tab, he made a quick google search and his eyes widened at the number of videos that popped up.

“It actually does, would you believe it,” he replied. “And by the way, you’re more than welcome to borrow my clothes as well. The code’s 641.”

“Oh yeah. Thanks. And thank you for reaching out to me, too. I’ll sleep a little easier tonight knowing where my things are.”

Phil found himself involuntarily smiling. “I will as well. Bye, Daniel.”

“Oh, please, call me Dan. Daniel’s so uptight, don’t you think?”

“If you say so. Goodbye, Dan.”

“That’s better. Goodbye, Phil.”

As soon as he hung up, Phil flopped back onto the bed feeling lightheaded. This was the first form of contact he’d had with a guy who wasn’t PJ in ages, and he was slightly smitten. If Dan looked anything like he sounded, Phil wouldn’t be able to contain himself.

He was getting ahead of himself. He tended to do that. The past few years, he'd been so emotionally deprived that even a phone call with a stranger was enough to convince him it was true love.

Even if Dan was taken, there were very few people in the world who could say they’d had the privilege of wearing his clothes. After watching several mediocre tutorials, Phil finally found a video demonstrating how to break into a suitcase with a pen. To his surprise, it worked. 

Hesitantly, he pushed the lid off. He gasped. He’d never seen such expensive looking clothes folded so neatly in his entire life. It put his packing style (he used the term ‘style’ loosely, it was more shoving in random clothes and toiletries and praying he had what he needed) to shame. 

Looking down at his crumpled t-shirt and jeans, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to change into something different. Rifling through Dan’s clothes was interesting to say the least. How did one man need so many pairs of ripped jeans? Since there were no pairs that didn’t expose his knees, he begrudgingly pulled out a pair and searched for a t-shirt.

Dan didn’t own a single item of clothing with any colour in it. Everything Phil could find was some varying shade of black, white or grey, all colours that made him look like he was still trapped in his 2005 emo phase. Pulling out the least offensive shirt he could find, he went into the bathroom. All the stress of the past day had caused him to neglect his hygiene.

The hotel he was staying in had the bare essentials to get by for now, but he made a mental note to go shopping soon. Even though his hair was greasy, he wasn’t prepared to destroy it with hotel shampoo. Unless… no. Maybe? Phil grabbed his phone and sent a quick text to Dan.

_Hi Dan! This is Phil (suitcase guy). I was just wondering whether your offer extended to toiletries too? The hotel shampoo’s terrible. Thanks! Phil_

Within a few minutes, Dan had replied.

_hey phil! feel free. hotel shampoo is always terrible. dan_

Phil let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding in. He was going to shower using Dan’s shampoo and change into Dan’s clothes, and something about that made him feel strangely giddy.

Once he’d finally showered, he felt refreshed. Dan’s shampoo was vanilla scented and now his hair smelt like a birthday cake. After towelling down, he slipped into the t-shirt and wrestled on the jeans. Dan must have been taller than him, as the t-shirt came down to mid-thigh and the jeans rolled up at his ankles, but he didn’t look completely terrible.

Shortly afterwards, his stomach started growling. Since the last thing he’d eaten was a sandwich on the plane, and he finally looked presentable enough to go out in public, he set out on a quest to find a vending machine.

Having searched for nearly half an hour, Phil came to the conclusion that there weren’t any in this particular hotel. The restaurant in the hotel wasn't going to open for another 2 hours and he couldn’t last until then. Muttering under his breath about how every self-respecting hotel should have vending machines, he called PJ.

“What’s up, lover boy?”

Phil choked on air.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself,” he laughed in reply. “We’ve talked once and that’s it.” 

“Knowing you, that’s enough to set you off,” PJ hummed. “Why’d you call?”

“I need food as a matter of urgency.”

“There are no vending machines?”

“None.”

“Damn.”

“Exactly. I can’t make it to dinner. Help a brother out.”

PJ chuckled. “There’s an M&S around the corner from where you are. I could come with? You need to update me on this… situation.”

“Fine. Are you sure I’m not interrupting anything?”

“Of course not!” PJ reassured him, his voice dripping with honeyed cheerfulness. “I can meet you there in 10. You should be able to find it without too much trouble.”

“I know what an M&S looks like, you prick. See you soon.”

From the numerous windows lining the corridor he was standing in, it looked like it was going to rain. The view looked like it belonged in a picture book, with scratchy pencil pavements and the sky streaked like watercolour painting. Dense clouds cast a dull shadow on the streets of London below. 

When he was back in his room, he searched Dan’s suitcase for the cosiest garment he could find, and settling on a knitted black jumper, he slipped it over his head. Walking past himself in the mirror, he almost didn’t recognise his reflection. He wasn’t sure black was his colour.

The low murmurs of the hotel lobby were soon replaced with harsh voices and cars squealing along and heels hitting the pavement. London had a very different vibe to Manchester, his hometown. All of the people here had more of a sense of purpose, and seeing everyone run around so frantically was a strange contrast to the more relaxed way of life he had up north.

It was safe to say this trip wasn’t going to plan. He’d just returned from a trip to Barcelona as part of a project he was working on. All he’d wanted to do was spend a couple of weeks in London, to hang out with PJ and go sightseeing, before he had to fly to Paris and continue his work. Instead he’d found himself wearing a stranger’s clothes, feeling utterly lost.

Dan’s jumper had sleeves that were too long, so he awkwardly rolled them up. According to his phone, the M&S which PJ had described as being ‘right around the corner’ was, in fact, 3 streets away. Bloody typical.

Though he was tempted to call for a taxi, he refrained. One of the points of him staying in London was so that he could see the sights, so why not experience some of it first hand? With Google Maps guiding him, he set off.

Half an hour later, Phil had finally made it. He couldn’t feel his feet and he was fairly certain he could taste blood in his mouth, but he’d made it. As soon as PJ saw him, he waved and jogged over. His eyes scanned over Phil's uncharacteristically monochrome choice of outfit and he quirked a brow. 

“You’re a dead man walking,” Phil grumbled.

“Hello to you, too. What took you so long?”

“What took me so long? Are you kidding? When you said just around the corner I wasn’t expecting a fucking hike!”

PJ grinned sheepishly. “So I may have underestimated how long it’d take you to get here by like, 20 minutes. Big deal. Point is, you’re here now. Let’s go.”

“Whatever.”

To Phil, there was something about supermarkets that was oddly satisfying. The rows and rows of beautifully stacked shelves filled some void within him. On the other hand, supermarkets also had annoying people and lights that were too bright and he was bound to accidentally tread on some yoghurt that someone had dropped. When his stomach growled again, he figured that was a price he was willing to pay.

PJ lasted a whole 40 seconds of companionable silence before he couldn’t take it anymore.

“So, how was the phone call?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Phil grabbed a basket and rolled his eyes. “I already told you. Nothing happened.”

“Is that why you’re wearing his clothes, then?”

The basket nearly fell to the floor.

“He said I could borrow his clothes until I can get my stuff back. Not a big deal.” Though he thought he’d sounded convincing, he could tell PJ wasn’t buying it. He felt a blush creeping up his neck.

“Somehow I find that hard to believe,” PJ retorted, smirking. He was loving every minute of this, almost as much as Phil wasn’t.

“As thrilling as this conversation is,” Phil announced, “I didn’t almost kill myself walking here to discuss my love life.” _Or lack thereof_ , he added in his head. 

“Someone’s a little dramatic today,” PJ chuckled. “We could grab a pizza or something.”

“We?”

“Yes, we. You wanna crash at my place tonight?”

“You already know the answer to that. I’ll grab the pizza if you grab the beer.”

“That’s a deal.”

It had been too long since they’d last spent time together. With PJ based in London and Phil based in Manchester, their long nights spent playing Mario Kart drunk had turned into Skype calls. PJ now owned his own company, and as happy as Phil was for him, he missed being able to hang out all the time. One night, he was so drunk he’d ended up driving the entirety of Bowser’s Castle backwards. When he hadn't come first, he was so angry he’d thrown his controller at the TV screen, cracking a corner. It was only the next morning when he’d realised.

As per tradition, Phil bought two pepperoni pizzas and PJ bought two crates of beer. They agreed to part ways, as Phil needed to get some things from his hotel room and PJ, in true PJ form, didn’t want the beer to get warm.

This time, for convenience, Phil called a taxi and paid him extra to wait for him to come back. Once he was in his hotel room, he shoved some of Dan’s clothes and other miscellaneous items into his rucksack, slammed the door and ran outside.

The taxi to PJ’s apartment took a solid 40 minutes in the heavy London traffic. Phil filled the time with listening to the La La Land soundtrack (he was obsessed) and aimlessly staring out of the window. Day was beginning to bleed into night, with the sky awash with peach and amber and gold. Combined with Justin Hurwitz’s dreamy piano chords, it wasn’t the worst taxi ride he’d ever had.

PJ’s apartment was full to the brim of trinkets and video game memorabilia; on every wall, shelf, you name it, there was something. Nestled in one corner of the main living room was a TV with two beanbags.

“You’re actually somewhat prepared for once,” Phil commented, looking around.

“I know right,” PJ grinned. “Pizza’s in the oven. I think the bottle opener’s by the sink.”

“Shall I crack open a cold one?”

“Shut up.”

Once the bottle opener had been retrieved (it was, in fact, _in_ the sink), the two were happily sipping on beer and waiting for the pizza to cook.

“This is taking too long,” PJ whined. “Let’s just start a race and come back to the pizza.”

“What if it burns?”

“That’s part of the fun.”

Though the prospect of scraping the charred edges of a pizza into the bin wasn’t appealing, Phil gave in and slumped into a beanbag beside PJ. At times like this, his competitive edge came out. Not even pizza was enough to distract him from winning. 

“Prepare to lose,” PJ warned.

“Oh, please,” Phil dismissed him, rolling his eyes. For the 8 years he’d known him, he could count the number of times he’d lost a race on one hand. It was like PJ didn’t even own the game.

As soon as the race started, any conversation dissipated. Phil’s brow furrowed slightly in concentration as he focused on getting to the front of the pack. Once he was there, he could laugh at PJ and pray that no one sent him a blue shell.

This continued for the next 4 races, until the oven started beeping.

“Pizza’s done.”

“About damn time,” Phil muttered. He followed PJ into the kitchen and watched as he pulled the pizzas out of the oven and piled them onto two plates. Suddenly, PJ stopped in his tracks and turned to Phil with a sly grin on his face.

“I just had the best idea.”

“Go on.”

“What if we take a shot every time someone fires a shell?” As he suggested this, PJ reached into the freezer and pulled out a bottle of vodka.

“This is a fucking joke,” Phil laughed, “but alright. Challenge accepted.”

With the shot glasses filled up, they were ready to go. A whole 20 seconds into the race, PJ was already yelling “Shot!”

Phil quickly knocked it back, wincing slightly. Whilst PJ took his shot, he grabbed a slice of pizza and wolfed it down. Lord knows how much he was going to be drinking later, and having an empty stomach wouldn’t help things.

The race started again, and almost immediately, Peach fired a red shell at Yoshi, PJ's character.

"Shot!" Phil yelled, filling up their glasses a second time.

PJ continued the race for a third time. They'd managed half the course (Sweet Sweet Canyon, one of Phil's personal favourites) when Tanooki Mario, Phil's character, was suddenly hit with a blue shell.

"Shot!"

"For god's sake."

The rest of the night, they raced intermittently and took a ridiculous amount of shots. After it all, Phil’s head was pounding and his mouth was dry. At some point, he’d rolled off the bean bag and hit the floor, and through blurred vision, he could tell he was staring at the ceiling.

“Peej?” he croaked, feeling a sudden wave of nausea.

“Over here,” came the reply. Looking up, Phil saw PJ sprawled on the sofa.

“I need to tell you something.”

“What?”

“I- I’m gay.”

“I know.”

Phil frowned. “You do?”

“You came out to me 3 years ago,” PJ replied, bursting into laughter.

“Oh yeah.”

“Why did you feel the need to remind me suddenly?” he asked, still laughing.

“I… don’t know.”

“Does it have anything to do with Dan?”

Looking down, Phil remembered he was still in Dan’s clothes and his heart fluttered. He’d only talked to him once. How was it possible for a complete stranger to have such a profound effect on him?

“Probably,” Phil admitted. “He had such a nice voice and he let me borrow his clothes and his shampoo smells like birthday cake- “

“You used his _shampoo_?”

Phil nodded in reply, beckoning him over and pulling out his phone. Once he’d found his text messages with Dan, he thrust his phone into PJ’s hand and grinned stupidly.

“That was nice of him," PJ murmured. Phil sighed. 

“He’s so nice I don’t know what to do with myself,” he blurted out. PJ looked a little startled. 

He didn't blame him. Being drunk made Phil do (and say) strange things. It was something he’d discovered aged 15, when he drank for the first time, and ever since then, he’d learned to deal with it. Occasionally, though, it got out of hand. This was one of those times.

That was why, at 2:16 am, Phil thought it would be a brilliant idea to call Dan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter finished wow idk why anyone's still here
> 
> also this is gonna be updated every sunday and u can follow me on tumblr (awrfhi) for more updates and stuff fun


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's chapter 3 lads!
> 
> as always, thank u so much to kenn (frecklie) who's basically my beta at this point even though she didn't ask to be. ily and thank u for being so supportive <3
> 
> i hope u enjoy!

Phil was abruptly woken up by an incessant ringing near his ear. His eyes snapped open, and through hazy vision he felt for his phone. Unlocking his phone, he fumbled for the ‘speaker’ button and tried to ignore the dull throbbing in his head.

“Hello?” he croaked, praying it was a cold call. The night before had been unexpectedly wild, and he needed paracetamol and a glass of water. Trying to talk to someone while still half-asleep wasn’t a massively exciting prospect.

“Hi Phil,” came the reply. “It’s Dan.”

Phil nearly dropped his phone in surprise.

“Oh, hi Dan! Why, uh, why’d you call?” he stuttered. The morning sun streaming through the window made him feel even dizzier. This wasn’t going to end well.

“To confirm you’re alright for later?”

“What’s happening later? Sorry, it must have slipped my mind.”

“You offered to meet for a coffee? I don’t have enough time to swap our stuff back unfortunately but it would be nice to put a face to a name.”

Phil had never hated himself more than in that moment. Fragments of the night before started coming back to him. He remembered calling Dan, but not inviting him out on a coffee date. Sticking pins in his eyes sounded more appealing than trying to get himself out of this.

“Absolutely! So, uh, when and w-where were you thinking?”

Glancing at his hands, Phil saw he was visibly shaking with the concentration it was taking him not to scream. He was going to meet Dan, and suddenly he felt panicked. Dan had a voice like silk and impeccable taste. Phil felt like he was punching above his weight.

“How about Café au Lait by the Thames? It’s a fairly new coffee shop but it’s really lovely.”

“It sounds lovely! What time would be okay?”

“This’ll sound oddly specific, but 3:45? I have an hour to spare then.”

With the location of his glasses still a mystery, Phil silently hoped that he had enough time to look presentable for meeting Dan. He’d be wearing Dan’s clothes, and Dan would be wearing his, which was disconcerting enough already. Looking like a serial killer wouldn’t give him a particularly good first impression. Not that he was trying to impress Dan, or anything.

“I can do then. I look forward to meeting you.”

“As do I. See you soon, Phil.”

Once the phone had clicked, Phil made an inhuman noise. A million butterflies tickled the lining of his stomach with their breathy wings, and the sun seemed a fraction brighter. The world around him had momentarily shifted, in a way that was nothing and everything at once.

In his frenzy, he lost his balance and went toppling onto the sofa, which just so happened to be where PJ was (or had been) sleeping. He jerked awake in confusion and cast a pointed glare at Phil before stretching out.

“Mornin’,” he grumbled, his eyes slowly adjusting to his surroundings. Phil had awkwardly climbed off the sofa and was now sat on a beanbag, looking pensive. “Why the long face?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“You’re hungover and still mildly horny from your call with Dan last night?”

Phil’s jaw dropped open. “You know about that?”

“I took half the amount of shots you did, mate. Of course I do. I filmed part of it as well.”

“Jesus Christ,” Phil whispered. “Let me see.”

PJ’s finger was partly obscuring the camera, and the sound quality was terrible, but it still made Phil want to crawl into a hole and die. At one point, he’d even said that Dan sounded like a ‘baby bear’. The awkward laugh that came from the other end was traumatising. Once the recording had finished, he’d never been happier.

“You have some pretty smooth pickup lines,” PJ commented, pressing his lips together to stifle his laughter.

“Shut up,” Phil groaned. “I can’t believe I did that. That’s even worse than the Bowser Castle incident.”

“I thought nothing would ever top that,” PJ hummed in reply. “You didn’t even realise you were driving backwards.”

“I cracked the damn TV screen. I had to pay you £3,000 for a repair.”

“And now you’ve gone and arranged a date with a stranger who’s probably wearing your clothes as we speak.”

“Don’t remind me.”

PJ simply laughed and heaved himself off the sofa. “Let’s get breakfast.”

“Good idea. I’m starving.”

“Thirsty, too.”

“Shut up.”

Once Phil’s glasses had been found and they were in the kitchen, PJ reached into the fridge and pulled out a bowl of what looked like batter. Phil immediately perked up. Nothing screamed ‘hangover cure’ quite like a stack of pancakes dripping with maple syrup.

“The kitchen staff at the office had some spare. I knew you were coming to stay nearby so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to bring some home.”

“You know me so well,” Phil replied.

“Naturally. I also know you well enough to not let you anywhere near the frying pan. There’s probably an apartment in Manchester with a crêpe still stuck to the ceiling.”

Laughter filled the air. Rolling his eyes, PJ set to work cooking the pancakes. Phil tried to ignore the subsiding throb in his head and focus on the rich aroma coming from the stove. In a past life, PJ must have been some master pancake flipper, as he flipped them all flawlessly and made sure to glare at Phil each time he succeeded.

When the pancakes were finished, Phil drizzled them in maple syrup and wolfed them down. Having food in his stomach helped him to clear his mind, especially with the current mess he was in. This trip kept getting more and more interesting.

He was actually going to meet Dan, in the flesh, tomorrow. He could finally put a face to a name and find some answers for his questions. The thought was terrifying, but also wildly exciting. What if he’d built Dan up to be something that he wasn’t? What if he was asking for his dreams to get crushed? Besides, what were the odds of a guy like Dan ever wanting to be friends with him?

It was something he’d gradually adapted to, being alone. Of course, he loved his family dearly, but he was an adult now. Other than PJ, he had no one, and the loneliness he felt sometimes hit him like a brick.

“Phil?” PJ asked, shattering the silence. He sprung up, suddenly aware he’d been daydreaming.

“What?”

“Your headache that bad?”

“Oh, no, I just – I’m overthinking things, that’s all.”

“This is about Dan, isn’t it?” Phil’s lack of reply urged him on. “Things will work out. You’ll get your stuff back, he’ll get his stuff back and you can forget this ever happened.”

“I know,” Phil sighed. “It’s not that.”

“What, the drunk call? If anything, he found it amusing. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

The pancakes turned sour in his mouth. Swallowing them down suddenly became much harder with a lump in his throat.

“It’s not that, either. He – he was so nice the first time I called him. I’ve ruined it.”

“Ruined what?”

“I don’t know, Peej! I don’t know why I’m delusional enough to think I have any chance with him at all! I don’t know why I’m obsessing over someone I haven’t even met! I don’t know!”

“Christ, you’re whipped,” PJ muttered. “And you don’t even know what he looks like.”

“Not helping.”

“I never claimed to be a therapist,” PJ replied, “but I know you. I know you’re not ‘delusional’ for thinking you have a chance with this guy. From what I heard last night, he seemed pretty great. Plus you’re not even obsessing over him, either. It’s normal to feel anxious about him when he, I don’t know, _has your damn suitcase_.”

Phil’s lips moved infinitesimally. “Fine. This whole situation is so insane. I haven’t been myself at all recently.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” PJ frowned. “You didn’t turn down pancakes.”

“I’m not that much of a monster.”

“There’s the Phil I know,” PJ chuckled. “Listen, I have to work today but I made a list of things you can do in London if you want it? Sights to see, places to eat, etc.”

“That’s essentially why I’m here,” Phil replied. “I mean, it’s not like I can fuck back off to Manchester with Dan’s stuff-”

“Good point.”

“-But thanks, Peej.”

“You’re very welcome. So, what time’s the date happening later?”

“3.45 on the dot, apparently. At some fancy sounding French coffee shop, too.”

“The man is clearly very punctual.”

“And into French patisserie,” Phil sighed. “It’s called Café au Lait and apparently it’s near the Thames. You heard of it?”

PJ let out a low whistle. “Dan has good taste.”

“Wait ‘til you see his clothes.”

“I have to see them at some point,” PJ mused, pouring more maple syrup onto his pancakes. “My company makes textiles, for Christ’s sake. It could be for ‘work purposes.’”

“’Work purposes’,” Phil replied, snorting. “Whatever you say.”

“It’s a valid reason!” PJ protested. Glancing at his watch, his eyes widened slightly. “Shit. It’s 2pm already. You’d better get back to the hotel and get ready.”

"Already?"

"Yeah. Time flies."

Phil’s head felt light. “I guess I'd better be going then. Wish me luck.”

“You’ll be fine. You’ve got this.”

-

Once he was back in the hotel, Phil realised he definitely hadn’t got this. Sweat plastered hair to his face in glistening streaks, his legs ached and his lungs felt like they could burst into flames at any given moment.

Normally, Phil was quick at getting ready for things, but his nerves were slowing him down. Everything he did required him to constantly question himself. Was aftershave too much? If he combed his hair enough would it look decent? Was Dan anywhere near as stressed out as he was?

Phil stared at himself in the mirror until his eyes lost focus. Since the other outfit he’d been wearing now reeked of vodka and sweat, he’d decided on a different t-shirt with a bomber jacket and yet another pair of ripped jeans. He tilted his head slightly. Bomber jackets suited him.

Even though Dan had straighteners, Phil was too anxious to use them, resulting in his hair looking like a frizzy mess. When he saw he had 30 minutes to get to the café, he sighed and flattened it slightly with his hands.

Thankfully, Phil had been rational enough to book a taxi, which was waiting outside for him. As soon as he stepped in it, the situation suddenly felt way more real. Taking a deep breath, Phil sent a quick text to Dan.

_3:45 at Café au Lait, right? I’m on my way there now. Phil_

The reply was instantaneous.

_that’s right. see you soon! dan_

Phil exhaled and looked out of the window. The early afternoon sun had blazed up the sky, streaking it with amber and peach. It peeked through soaring skyscrapers and filled windows with its light.

London was beautiful, but busy. After sitting for a good 25 minutes in heavy traffic, Phil finally arrived at his destination.

PJ was right. Dan _did_ have good taste. Café au Lait was a fairly small coffee shop, with window boxes bursting with lavender and peonies and lilies – all kinds of flowers – and a rustic looking wooden door. Above the door read ‘Café au Lait’ in a fancy blue scrawl, complete with a small painting of a cup of coffee. Phil had fallen in love before even stepping inside.

The interior was almost better than the exterior: to the left was a selection of woven tables and chairs, each decorated with a small vase of flowers and a jar of sugar cubes, and to the right sat counters filled with cakes and confectionary. The smell of coffee mixed with something floral perfumed the air.

Scanning the various tables, Phil didn’t see anyone sitting alone who looked like Dan, so he wandered over to the counter and glanced through the menu. After ordering the signature café au lait and an éclair, he sat himself at a table down the end of the shop. The whole far end of the shop was made of glass walls, which overlooked the Thames.

Whilst he waited for Dan to arrive, Phil was content with the view. The Thames wasn’t the cleanest river in the world, but the sun left shimmering ripples in it which dazzled his eyes. Tourists and native Londoners alike walked down streets, or posed for photos, or chatted animatedly with friends. Good weather put everyone in a good mood.

“Are you Phil?” a voice said.

Phil’s head whirled around and his heart stopped in his chest. Sure, he’d expected Dan to be good looking, but the man standing by the table was nothing short of beautiful.

“I am,” he replied, holding his hand out for Dan to shake. “You must be Dan. N-nice to meet you.”

Dan had brown hair that sat in soft curls on his head, and warm brown eyes. The light from the window made his skin glow, casting an almost ethereal aura around him. Phil was so unbelievably fucked.

“And you must be Phil,” Dan said, shaking Phil’s hand. “I’ll go and order quickly.”

As Dan ordered, Phil mentally composed himself. Yes, Dan was incredibly attractive, but Phil had just met him. He could have a terrible personality. With that pessimistic thought in his head, Phil took a bite of his éclair and tried to calm his nerves.

Dan came back brandishing a tray with a mug of something and a small cake. He flashed an amicable smile at Phil before sitting down.

“I was hoping it was you,” Dan began. “I thought I recognised my clothes.”

“Yeah,” Phil replied, chuckling. “Thank you for letting me borrow them.”

“It’s no trouble.” Dan waved a dismissive hand. “I only have one more full day of meetings and then hopefully we can arrange to swap our stuff back.”

“That’s good. I’m sorry this was arranged under such questionable circumstances.”

Dan laughed and Phil felt blood rise to his cheeks. He noticed Dan had a dimple in his left cheek, and he smiled.

“Everyone makes mistakes. I like to think of them as artistic choices. Besides, it was inevitable we’d have to meet at some point, right?”

“Right.” Phil sipped his coffee shakily. “So, what were you doing in Barcelona?”

“Just visiting. It’s a fascinating place. And you?”

“Business trip,” Phil grumbled. “I’m a travel journalist.”

Dan’s brows raised slightly in approval. “So you get paid to explore places?”

“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds like a dream. I get paid a sum of money to travel to places, explore the culture, etc. At the minute I’m doing a spread on affordable places to go with ‘the total package’, if you will.”

“Was Barcelona the ‘total package’ then?”

“Nearly. It has great nightlife but when you’re not a teenager it’s a little on the noisy side. Plus Spain has a culture of eating dinner really late. I’d go into a tapas bar at 10pm and it’d be borderline empty.”

“That sounds fun,” Dan mused.

“It has its fun moments,” Phil hummed in reply. “Uh, do you live here?”

“In London? Yeah, I do. It’s been my home for a few years now. You?”

“Mancunian through and through. London is good, though. I have friends here.”

“I could tell from the accent,” Dan grinned. “I went to Manchester for uni. It’s a lovely city. So, what brings you to London?”

“I’m due to travel to Paris in a couple of weeks, plus it’s nice catching up with friends who live here.”

“Do you know a lot about London, then?”

“A bit more than most people, I guess,” Phil replied, thoughtfully taking a bite of his éclair. “Obviously I’ve been on the London Eye, but other than that, there’s more I want to experience. My friend gave me a list of things to do, actually, but he’s preoccupied with work.”

There was a lull in the conversation. Phil finished his éclair and slowly drank the remnants of his coffee. After a while, Dan spoke up.

“How about I show you?”

Phil nearly spat out his coffee. “I’m sorry?”

“Well, I live here. You said your friend’s busy with work, so why don’t I show you around London a bit? It’s better than doing it alone.”

“I, uh, of course! When are you free?”

“Obviously not tomorrow,” Dan laughed. “But the day after tomorrow? You can get your stuff back, I can get my stuff back, I can show you the sights. It’ll be fun.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Phil replied, trying his best not to scream with excitement. “The day after tomorrow it is.”

“Good. Listen, I’d better get going. Meetings and all. But it was lovely meeting you, Phil.”

“You too.”

Phil extended his hand and Dan shook it. Giving him a friendly wave, Dan smiled and left Café au Lait leaving Phil feeling childishly giddy.

Opening his phone, he saw a text from PJ.

_how’d the date go, lover boy?_

_Pretty damn well!_

As he left the café, Phil felt a strange sense that he was on the verge of something great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading (if anyone actually is lmao)
> 
> please leave kudos, comments etc they honestly make my day :(
> 
> if u don't follow me on tumblr i'm awrfhi there so uhh hmu or send me dog pictures i promise i'm a good person


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's good here's chapter 4
> 
> it's probably kind of extra writing chapter notes at the beginning and end of every chapter but consistency is key
> 
> anyway! i'm trying to make these longer so tell me what u think!! i hope u enjoy <3

The day that Phil waited to meet Dan again felt like the longest day of his life. It passed painfully slowly, with him waking up late and texting PJ, then eating cereal in the hotel’s restaurant for breakfast and flopping on the bed doing nothing. Everything seemed purposely elongated, as if by doing so he could speed up time.

PJ was so excited at the prospect of Dan and Phil spending more time together that he ended up assigning himself more work days. Phil laughed, but deep down he was slightly concerned. Who would willingly make themselves do more work?

As he lay on the bed, his mind wandered to the events of the day before. Dan was so friendly it felt like he’d known him all his life. He was eloquent, but not in an intimidating way, and seemed to have a genuine interest in everything they’d talked about. Phil sighed blissfully, feeling a smile creep up his lips.

His phone flashed with a notification. It was a text from Dan. If it was even possible, his smile grew wider.

_do you have an email address?_

Phil frowned, but typed out a reply.

_amazingphil@gmail.com. Why?_

_you’ll see_

A few minutes later, Phil received an email from danisnotonfire@gmail.com. Part of him wanted to laugh at Dan’s email address, but he remembered his own equally terrible one and clamped his mouth shut. The email didn’t have a subject or any text, just a document attached entitled ‘phil’s super fun amazing adventure around london’. Reading closer, he saw that it was an itinerary.

 

Day 1: the touristy areas

\- The London Eye, Buckingham Palace, Big Ben

Day 2: museums

\- Natural History Museum, Victoria and Albert Museum, British Museum

Day 3: art galleries

\- National Gallery, Tate Modern

Day 4: more touristy areas

\- St Paul’s Cathedral, Tower of London, London Aquarium

Day 5: shopping areas

\- Oxford Circus, Bond Street

Day 6: theatres

\- The Globe, The National Theatre

Day 7: free reign

\- (i got lazy and didn’t get to properly finish this but anywhere you’d like to go!)

 

The fact that Dan had taken the time to plan this out made Phil’s heart flutter. They’d only met once, but if this was anything to go by, Phil had a feeling they’d be in each other’s lives for a long time coming.

Of course, he had no way of really knowing, but he was willing to trust his gut instinct. He didn’t know many people who would go out of their way to make sure an acquaintance had an enjoyable stay (except for holiday bookers, but that was different) and he felt oddly touched.

_This is so cool? Thank you!_

_no problem :’)_

Another thing Phil had noticed was the lack of formality with their texts, something he very much welcomed. Soon enough, he’d probably ditch punctuation altogether. He didn’t even do that with PJ, and he was his best friend.

He read the email over and over, almost memorising each detail that Dan had taken the trouble to write out. Some of the things listed were places he’d never even heard of, some were places he’d been before. At that point, he didn’t even mind. You could visit the same place every day of your life, but with different people (rather, the _right_ people), the experience would be different each time.

Since PJ was probably still at work and Phil didn’t have the energy to leave his hotel room, he resorted to listening to movie soundtracks and scrolling through social media. All of the ‘hot guys’ he followed on Twitter paled in comparison to Dan, something which made him feel equally excited and terrified.

This was Dan, the man who’d come into his life by chance. Dan, who accepted to meet Phil for a coffee even though the offer had been made at 2am when he was drunk. Dan, who’d just made an itinerary of things for them to do together for a whole week. The only thing that outshone his looks thus far was his personality.

The music slowly faded out until Phil realised that his playlist had finished 20 minutes ago. He chuckled as he realised how long he’d been daydreaming. The confusing whirlpool of feelings he had for Dan was deepening considerably.

His stomach rumbling brought him back to reality. His eyes zeroed in on a small leaflet sitting on the table opposite the bed. Reaching over to inspect it, he realised it was a room service menu, and in his elated surprise he nearly fell off the bed.

After ordering some sushi and popcorn (he was a grown adult who made sensible decisions about what to eat), he paced his hotel room until he heard a knock at the door.

“Room service?”

Phil unlocked the door and flashed a smile at the hotel employee, taking the tray from him.

“Would it be possibly to put it on the tab, please?”

“Of course, Sir. Enjoy your meal.”

“You t- I mean thank you,” Phil replied, hastily slamming the door before he said anything else he’d regret.

When he saw the sushi, any embarrassment faded away. There was a small platter with an array of sushi, including prawn, salmon and what looked like avocado.

It came with soy sauce and wasabi, which he religiously avoided. As it turned out, drunk Phil enjoyed burning his mouth off as well as doing irreparable damage to friends’ possessions.

Food made Phil sleepy. Once he’d retrieved the TV remote, he snuggled in bed with his popcorn and found a movie on one of the channels. Even white noise was better than the silence that came with being alone.

The movie he’d flicked onto wasn’t the worst he’d ever seen. Sure, it wasn’t what he normally watched, but the plot was entertaining enough to keep him hooked for a small while. After crunching on some popcorn, he sank into his pillow and drifted to sleep.

-

The world was bathed in the soft early glow of morning. Phil woke up with his stomach already twisting itself into knots. Today was the day.

After checking his phone and seeing there was nothing from Dan, he decided to freshen up in the bathroom before ordering breakfast. The highlight of his holiday so far was finding out the room service had a breakfast menu.

A short while later, an employee delivered his bowl of cereal and mug of coffee. There was a good selection of cereal to choose from, but Phil had decided on coco pops in a spur-of-the-moment decision. While other functioning adults paid bills, Phil debated on whether he felt like wanting cinnamon crunch or chocolatey popping goodness more.

As he ate, he noticed how he almost couldn’t keep still. He felt hypersensitive; every spoonful he took seemed tentative, and he was suddenly aware of the monotonous ticking coming from the clock. Time kept moving forward constantly – as soon as each moment happened, it became a memory.

Once breakfast was finished, he texted PJ to keep his hands occupied.

_Today’s the day_

_for what?_

Phil sent a screenshot of the itinerary Dan had written out, and PJ instantly replied with an incomprehensible jumble of letters. He laughed under his breath.

_I know right :( I’m gonna be spending the entire week with him_

_you’ve got this lover boy. i believe in you_

_That makes one of us_

_stop being such a pessimist. enjoy yourself! and keep me updated_

_Will do_

It was nearly lunchtime before Phil received a call from Dan. His heart started thumping.

“Now or never,” he whispered, before answering. “Hello?”

“Phil!” came the reply. “Are you ready for day one of a super fun exciting week?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be. Where should we meet?”

“How far away are you from Big Ben?”

“About… half an hour by taxi, I reckon,” Phil said, frowning at Google Maps.

“Alright.” There was a short pause in the conversation. “How about we meet near Big Ben at 12:30ish?”

“But our suitcases?”

Dan paused. “Good point. I could meet you at your hotel and we could change before heading out, I guess. I can pick my suitcase up this evening after we’ve finished today’s tour.”

“’Tour’,” Phil murmured. “But yeah. That’s fine.”

“Perfect. Oh, and don’t worry about lunch. I’ve got it covered.”

“You do?”

“I do,” Dan chuckled. “I’ll see you soon, Phil.”

After sending a frantic text to PJ (which he could read and squeal about later), Phil set about putting Dan’s things back in his suitcase in a vaguely organised manner. Thinking on his toes, he stole a clean bin bag and shoved dirty clothes in it. Dan’s toiletries were muddled together and thrown into the suitcase on top of the clothes.

When he’d managed to drag Dan’s case down to the hotel lobby, he texted Dan his location and sat waiting. The room was spacious and bright, and glancing down at Dan’s suitcase, he decided it definitely was navy.

As much as he wanted to beat himself up about it, part of him felt lucky that the situation had happened. If he hadn’t monumentally screwed up in the way he did, his and Dan’s paths would have never crossed. Thinking about it made him feel strange.

His phone buzzed.

_i’m pretty much outside the hotel now_

_I’m waiting in the area near the reception desk. It shouldn’t be too hard to find me_

Moments later, Phil saw Dan wondering through the door, casually wearing his favourite blue hoodie. Stifling his confused surprise as a cough, he waved at Dan to get his attention and beckoned him over.

“Hey.”

“Hi!” Dan sounded a little out of breath. “Shall we head up to your room?”

“Sure,” he replied, pointedly ignoring the image that just popped up in his mind.

He walked with Dan to the elevator and they stood in companionable silence until they reached the 4th floor. A short walk around the corner and down a corridor led them to Phil’s room. Once they were inside, Dan looked around.

“Nice room,” he commented, leaving Phil’s suitcase by the bed.

“It’s nothing fancy,” Phil said, smiling slightly. “I can change in the bathroom if you want to change out here.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

Opening his own suitcase lifted a huge weight off Phil’s shoulders. Dan had folded all of his clothes so neatly he was almost afraid to touch them.

After grabbing his things, he went into the bathroom. He was about to change when he realised he hadn’t brought any jeans with him. Sighing, he came out.

“I forgot my- oh my god!”

“Shit!” Dan yelped, ducking behind the bed.

Shielding his eyes, Phil tried to erase the image of Dan’s naked torso out of his mind. Annoyingly, it was hard not to. Dan had smooth tanned skin and his tummy had just the right amount of squish. Long story short, he was annoyingly easy on the eyes.

“Dan, I’m so so so sorry,” Phil stuttered, his eyes still squeezed shut in pure embarrassment. “I forgot my jeans. I wasn’t, uh, I just – it was an accident.”

“It’s okay, Phil,” Dan replied, his voice wavering. “Let’s just… pretend this never happened, yeah?”

“Good idea.”

When Phil’s jeans had been retrieved, he went back into the bathroom with his face burning. He was tempted to splash his face with cold water. That really just happened.

Shaking himself out of it, he focused on the looming afternoon ahead of him – he was about to embark on a weeklong guided tour of London with a ridiculously handsome guy who he’d met by mistake. This was as good as it was going to get.

The second time he left the bathroom, he made sure to wait until Dan said he was ready. Once they’d both dressed and grabbed their things, they left Phil’s room.

“The adventure begins,” Dan grinned. “You’ll love London, I promise. We don’t get a lot of tourists here for nothing.”

“There are a shit ton of tourists,” he replied. “So, Big Ben first?”

Dan rolled his eyes. “Did you even read my itinerary? We’re going on the London Eye first. Might as well start off with something you’ve done before.”

“Good point.”

A taxi ride and a short walk later, they’d finally arrived at the ticket booth. When they saw the queue was horrendously long, Dan groaned. He pulled a paper bag out of his rucksack and gave it to Phil, who eyed it with suspicion.

“I said I had lunch covered, remember?”

Phil’s eyes lit up. “Oh yeah.” Opening the bag, he saw it was a chicken wrap. He took a bite and had to stop himself from moaning. Wherever this wrap came from, it was damn good.

With the chicken wrap and Dan to keep him company, Phil made his way up the queue. Each of the pods on the London Eye held a considerable amount of people, so the queue moved at a rapid pace. Before he knew it, they were stepping off solid ground and into a pod with a swarm of people surrounding them.

“Go down to the end. It always has the best view,” Dan instructed, trying to squeeze inbetween two people. Phil followed his lead, and as he saw the view, he audibly gasped.

“Holy shit.”

“Right? Wait until it gets to the top. The view’s incredible.”

From where Phil was standing, the view included Dan as well, and he could only agree.

When the pod door closed, it lurched into life and began moving. The higher it rose, the farther the horizon stretched before Phil’s eyes. He spent his time listening to Dan, who was pointing out notable landmarks and rambling about them.

“You can see so far out from here,” Dan mused. “Obviously there’s the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben nearby, but there are people’s homes in the distance. Their livelihoods, families, their entire worlds, all caught up in a big city. And here we are, looking at it.”

“That’s profound,” Phil murmured. “But true. Your home’s out there, somewhere.”

“Yours too. Manchester’s a little further away from here than Islington, though.”

“Funny how geography works like that.”

Dan laughed and his eyes crinkled. The natural light streaming in made his eyes seem more golden than brown. No matter how hard he tried, he was falling, and fast.

Once their pod had returned to the starting point, they waited for others to get off before stepping out, onto London ground.

“Just touched down in London town,” Dan hummed.

Phil smiled knowingly. “Bet they give me a pound.”

Dan smiled back. “An iconic song.”

“Truly.”

A comfortable silence descended as they walked away from the London Eye, in the general direction of Big Ben. As they were crossing the bridge, Dan stopped Phil by gently tapping his shoulder.

“This is a good place to take photos,” he announced, pulling out his phone and snapping a couple. Unbeknownst to Phil, as he turned around and marvelled at the sheer height of Big Ben, Dan took a couple more photos featuring him.

“Insta fame is coming my way,” he quipped. Dan simply snorted and they continued walking.

“Up next on the agenda is Big Ben,” Dan said. “I know a bunch of random facts on this. Prepare to have your mind blown.”

“That’s quite a bold statement.”

“For good reason. Now, first fact: Big Ben leans by 0.26° to the northwest.”

“My mind is sufficiently blown.”

“There’s more where that came from,” Dan replied. “As for now, though, I’d take a few photos here and then we can head on over to Buckingham Palace.”

 _We_. It was strange how the tiniest of words could make Phil feel so warm. Dan had used it several times before over the phone, but to see it leave his mouth added another layer of intimacy. Sure, Phil tended to overreact to these kinds of things, but the warmth lingered for the rest of the day.

They spent a while taking photos, more secret candids of the other person than actual photos of Big Ben. Dan even convinced Phil that they should take a photo together, which he naturally agreed to. The resulting photo was a selfie that was on the cheesy side, but still sweet.

The prospect of walking to Buckingham Palace didn’t appeal to either of them, so they settled for a quick taxi ride. Phil knew that by the end of the trip he’d have racked up a ridiculous amount spent on taxis, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care.

“So,” Dan began, “the final stop for today: Buckingham Palace. To be honest it’s a little overhyped but it’s still nice to take photos of it, I guess.”

“I’ll blow a kiss into one of the windows for the Queen,” Phil replied, causing Dan to chuckle.

Since there wasn’t anywhere for the taxi to stop nearby, they got out on one of the adjacent roads. In all honesty, taking a taxi was probably a waste of money, as Big Ben was less than 10 minutes away from Buckingham Palace. They both pointedly ignored that fact.

It was a pleasant enough afternoon, not too hot or too cold. Dan seemed to exude a certain radiance, and the world around him echoed it. The sun peeked through the foliage surrounding them, spilling patterns of light that illuminated his face.

Phil tried to dismiss his intrusive thoughts and focus on what Dan was saying.

“-and nature is just so beautiful and I feel like I don’t appreciate it enough. I always spend my time wasting my life away inside and-” Dan trailed off suddenly. “I’m rambling, aren’t I? Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Phil replied, being as reassuring as he could. “I’m here to listen.”

“You sound like my therapist,” Dan laughed. Phil laughed with him, but his stomach sank. It was such a subtle yet devastating thing to hear.

As Dan gauged Phil’s reaction, he added, “that was too much information. Now you have to tell me a secret. It’s only fair.”

“I… uh, okay, I have one. I once accidentally dyed my hair bright orange.”

Dan laughed so hard he had to clutch his sides. His laughter was loud and outrageous, but filled with warmth. Phil decided in that moment that he liked the sound of it.

Several minutes later, Dan had finally regained his breath.

“How on earth do you accidentally dye your hair bright orange? Oh my god.”

“I don’t know!” Phil protested, a smile toying at his lips. “I wanted to have blonde hair but something went wrong. Everyone called me ‘highlighter face’ for months.”

Dan laughed again, before stopping in his tracks. Phil looked at him questioningly.

“Well, Mr. Highlighter Face,” Dan replied. “Welcome to Buckingham Palace.”

Phil glanced to his left and he almost jumped in surprise. He’d been so focused on trying to keep his cool with Dan that he hadn’t been paying attention to his surroundings. Throughout the time they’d been talking, they’d walked through St James’ Park and were now standing across the road from Buckingham Palace, which was currently obscured by an elaborate looking memorial.

“That’s the Victoria Memorial,” Dan explained. “Designed and made by Sir Thomas Brock.”

“The more you know.”

The closer they got to it, the fancier it looked. At the top was a bronze figure of some description, which sat on top of a marble structure. Each side depicted a different image, and although Phil didn’t understand what any of them meant, he appreciated them aesthetically.

He noticed a few tourists climbing on the memorial and his curiosity piqued. Turning to Dan, he saw he had an equally intrigued look on his face.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That line’s clichéd and overused, but yes. Wanna climb up?” Dan replied. Phil grinned.

After making themselves comfortable on a small ledge on the memorial, Dan swung his legs and Phil looked ahead. Why think about how Dan’s leg felt brushing against his when he could admire such a lovely view?

“Are you gonna blow a kiss?”

“For the Queen?” Phil giggled. “Alright then.”

As he blew the kiss, he watched from the corner of his eye as Dan’s eyes never left his lips. A shiver ran down his spine.

“I’m sure she appreciated that,” Dan grinned.

“I hope so,” Phil replied. “You never know. Queenie might be partial to a high five.”

Dan snickered. “Stop making me laugh. I’ll fall off.”

“That wouldn’t be good,” Phil teased.

“Excuse you! I’m spending my precious time so that you, Phil ‘Highlighter Face’ Lester, can have an enjoyable time in London with your new friend! If I die, who could possibly take my place?”

“Good point. I’d just have to do it alone, without the company of a resident expert on London who knows random facts about it and brings me chicken wraps.”

“I hate you,” Dan murmured, a smile lighting up his face.

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

Dan gasped in fake shock before rolling his eyes. Using his hands, he pushed himself off the ledge and landed down on the ground. He extended his hand, which Phil grabbed on to as he got down. His hand was warm, and for some strange reason, holding it felt right.

Their hands stayed together for a moment too long, as Phil awkwardly let go and Dan coughed.

“That’s everything for the first day,” he spoke up after a short while. “This was fun.”

“It was,” Phil said, smiling. “Thank you for doing this. It really wasn’t necessary, but I’m, uh, grateful for it.”

“You’re very welcome,” Dan replied. “Tomorrow’s plan is museums, if that’s okay? London is full of them. They’re all pretty solid.”

“Sounds good to me. Where should we meet?”

“I’ll text you tomorrow, probably. Anyway! We should get back to your hotel. I need to get my stuff and I don’t know about you but sleeping sounds really good right now.”

Phil involuntarily yawned. “It does.”

After they’d waved down a taxi, they were driven to the hotel. Afternoon had faded into evening, and the sun had slowly sunk from the sky, glowing dark orange on the horizon. As Dan stared out of the window, Phil not-so-discreetly stared at his profile. ‘In too deep’ was a phrase that sprung to mind.

Once they were in the hotel, they went to Phil’s room and Dan got his things. Dan then bid him farewell, leaving Phil to lie on his bed and squeal with happiness.

Warm. Dan made Phil feel warm, and he couldn’t get enough of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello to anyone bothering to read this
> 
> i know i've been updating on sundays but i've decided that as i'll have a lot more free time during summer i'll hopefully be able to update 2 times a week? if anyone wants that then let me know lmao
> 
> hope you're all doing well and i'll be back next sunday :')


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another week, another chapter! wow!
> 
> (sorry in advance for the beginning but i'm not sorry)
> 
> hope u enjoy <3

Nose to nose. Legs tangled together. Warm breath fanning across his face.

Phil wanted to open his eyes, but he couldn’t. He was too cosy, nestled in Dan’s arms, feeling his curls tickle his forehead.

He had no idea where he was, and he didn’t care. It was warm, safe, perfect, and blurred just the right amount around the edges.

Feeling Dan stir in his arms, Phil opened his eyes slowly. Dan’s eyes were even more beautiful up close; speckled with gold and red and framed by soft lashes. They pierced his own with a tender intensity that took his breath away.

Suddenly, he was leaning in, closer and closer, until Phil felt Dan’s lips against his own. They were gentle, but urgent, and soon he found himself weaving his fingers through Dan’s hair, deepening the kiss. Dan’s hand cupped his face, and everything was bathed in colour, vibrant with a million indescribable feelings.

When Dan’s tongue slipped into his mouth, he could hardly complain. It felt intuitive, like magnets springing together, or the moon moving the tides. Those comparisons paled to what he truly felt, swept away in the moment. He couldn’t put a finger on what it really felt like.

In a moment of courage, he trailed his fingers down Dan’s arm and side. Taking the hint, Dan tilted his head up and let Phil move from his mouth to his jaw, neck, collarbone, chest, stomach, lower and lower until-

That was when Phil woke up.

Staring at the tiresome white curtains and wallpaper, reality slowly kicked in. As soon as Phil found his glasses, he gazed at the room around him, feeling equally fulfilled and unfulfilled.

His dream felt so real, so raw. Dan was with him, and they were happy. Everything was more than he could have imagined. At the same time, however, it was a little disconcerting to have had such an intimate dream after only knowing someone for the best part of 4 days.

Rubbing his temples, Phil swung his legs over the side of the bed and received an onslaught of angry texts from PJ.

_how’d it go lover boy_

_phil_

_phillllll_

_PHIL_

_PHILIP MICHAEL LESTER YOU BETTER TELL ME EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED YESTERDAY OR I’LL COME TO YOUR HOTEL AND DECK YOU_

_Ok omg call me_

Moments later, his phone rang. PJ was nothing if not punctual.

“Hel-”

“WHAT HAPPENED?” PJ half-yelled, shattering Phil’s eardrum in the process.

“Christ Peej, I just woke up,” Phil winced. “We went on the London Eye.”

“And?”

Phil scoffed. “And then we saw Big Ben and got a taxi to Buckingham Palace. It was a fun day. End of.”

“You sure know how to sell a story short,” PJ replied. “I need details. What did he look like? Did you die inside when you saw him? What did you talk about?”

“He was wearing the blue hoodie.”

PJ was silent for a moment. “The _blue one_?”

“Yes!”

“Damn.”

“And I did die inside when I saw him. He’s so unfairly attractive. I’m angry.”

Laughter echoed down the phone. “This is amazing. Have you snuck any photos of him?”

“I… I, uh, a few. Maybe.”

“Of course you have. Send me one.”

“You’re demanding.”

“How’s anything ever going to happen without my help? Everyone knows you’re terrible with social interaction as it is. Throw a hot guy into the mix and you’re helpless.”

“Shut up!”

“It’s the truth,” PJ deadpanned. “Anyway. What’s the plan for today?”

“Let me send you a photo, then I’ll explain,” Phil replied, scrolling through his camera roll to find a good one. He smiled fondly at some of the ones he’d taken: Dan in front of Big Ben, him walking with the wind perfectly rustling his hair, their corny selfie – even a naughty one of him standing by Buckingham Palace that he’d snuck.

Choosing one that made him melt a little, he sent it to PJ.

“Have you sent it?”

“I have now.”

PJ’s muffled scream said it all.

“You said unfairly attractive, not next level beautiful!” he protested. “This is unbelievable.”

“I know,” Phil whined. “I’m so fucked.”

“I can bloody see why! He’s dedicated a week to you. An entire week. The universe works in mysterious ways in your favour, Phil Lester.”

Phil chuckled. “It does. You should meet him at some point, though.”

“I have to,” PJ hummed in agreement. “I could host a party? Nothing major, just a few friends, some drinks, some Mario Kart.”

“A few of those don’t combine very well,” he said, pondering.

“Who cares? If Dan can handle you during your drunk Mario Kart rampage he can handle you through anything.”                                                    

“That’s a fair point,” Phil replied. “How about Saturday? I have free reign on that day to do whatever I want with Dan- and no, not like that Peej, god damn it.”

“You’re making this far too easy.”

“Keep your mind out of the gutter for a minute. What time should it start? Don’t we have to plan this ‘party’ a bit more?”

“Alright, alright. It’ll be lowkey. Start around 8 for some drinks and stay the night if you want. Something like that.”

“Sounds good to me,” Phil murmured. “I hope he accepts.”

“Of course he will, you knob. Stop worrying yourself over everything.”

“Fine.”

“Fine. Work’s calling my name. I’d better go.”

“Leaving so soon? Fine.”

“Fine. Bye.”

When Phil hung up, he rubbed his temples again, the dream still at the forefront of his mind. He felt a little guilty that he hadn’t told PJ about it, but given his reaction to just seeing a photo of Dan, it was probably for the best.

_Hey! Two things. 1) when and where are we meeting today and 2) are you free on Saturday_

Anticipating a reply, he sat and waited. When he didn’t receive one within a couple of minutes, he frowned, but decided to brush it off and focus on getting ready.

Wearing his own clothes and using his own toiletries felt even sweeter. Of course, everyone knew about the old phrase ‘you don’t know what you have until it’s gone’, but it hit home in that moment. His hair no longer smelt of birthday cake, and his wardrobe was considerably brighter, more Phil. It felt like things were finally working in his favour again.

When Dan hadn’t replied after an hour, he tentatively called him. To his surprise, Dan answered on the second ring.

“Dan?”

“Hey, Phil! Open your door.”

He was temporarily lost for words. “I… okay, sure, hold on a second.”

In front of Phil’s hotel door stood Dan, a hand casually slouched into his pocket. His outfit was head to toe black, apart from the straps of his rucksack, which were chequered black and white.

After staring at Dan for a little longer than was considered socially acceptable, Phil hung up and forced a smile.

“I wasn’t expecting you to wait outside my hotel room,” he said. “Come in. Let me grab a few things and then we can go.”

“It’s easier than us trying to meet somewhere, or you trying to find my flat,” Dan replied. “Plus talking to an actual human rather than a voice down a line is quite nice, too.”

“Is my voice not cutting it?” Phil mused out loud, spritzing some hairspray in his hair and messing up his fringe. Once there was sufficient volume, he used his fingers to smooth it down ever so slightly and smiled at the result.

“Your voice is slightly deeper in real life,” Dan commented.

A strange silence lingered for a while. When Phil had his things ready, Dan spoke up again.

“Are we good to go?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“Cool.”

They didn’t say anything until they were out of the hotel. Dan led him to yet another taxi. Phil was tempted to start a blog for reviewing each separate journey. As he was laughing to himself at the thought of having a tumblr blog called ‘fuckyeahtaxis’, Dan lightly tapped his shoulder.

“Hm?”

“Sorry about what happened. I didn’t mean to be awkward, or make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh, no, of course not!” he reassured him, hurriedly. “You did nothing wrong.”

“You say that but, it’s just, I don’t really socialise with many people very often.”

“Me neither.”

“And, well, I guess what I’m trying to say is, you’re the first proper person I’ve talked to for a while. I don’t want to screw it up.”

“I didn’t know you were such a pessimist,” Phil replied. To think he’d thought _he_ was bad. Dan put Phil’s ‘pessimism’ to shame.

“It’s more anxiety than anything,” Dan confessed. “But that’s just me being irrational.”

“Anxiety isn’t irrational if you can’t help it,” Phil said, frowning. “You aren’t the only person who’s ever experienced it. I know this isn’t much consolation, but I’m doing this ‘tour’ with you. I don’t mind what you show me. The fact that you even thought to do all of this in the first place is so generous.”

“Honestly, it was the least I could do. I know London pretty well, plus the prospect telling people about how we met sounds so fun.”

Phil chuckled gently. “‘He wore my clothes for 2 days – what happens next will shock you!’”

“‘Man furious when his suitcase mysteriously changes during a flight.’”

“That’s quite the story we’ve got going on. I know somewhere it could come to use.”

“Smooth segue,” Dan replied. “You do?”

“Yeah! My friend’s having a party at his place on Saturday night. It’ll be fairly small, but he’d love to meet you.”

“He knows about me?”

Phil grinned sheepishly. “Maybe.”

“You utter muffin. Alright then. I’ll come.”

“Good.”

They shared a soft smile, before Phil ducked his head to avoid embarrassing himself. His cheeks were burning, and some pretentious part of his mind felt like it was symbolism. The sun had now arched into the sky, and there were few clouds, both signs that the weather was going to be good.

Not that good weather was particularly important. The next couple of days would be spent mainly indoors, listening to whatever Dan told him.

He was a little excited. Dan had such a way of words that was infectious to listen to, and when he was passionate about something, Phil noticed little things he did; how he used his hands more, and how his smiles seemed that much wider, more genuine.

Their first stop was the National History Museum, somewhere Phil had never visited before but had heard good things about. It was impressive looking, with arches and columns and skylights that made Dan’s eyes twinkle.

They spent their time there wandering around exhibitions. As Phil had predicted, Dan rambled about his favourite parts, and he was so enthralled in what Dan had to say that he didn’t mind listening.

“These photos are insane,” he mentioned, as they made their way through an exhibition on wildlife photography. “There’s so many things you can take photos of with a camera. The possibilities are endless.”

“They are,” Phil replied, smiling. “Isn’t there a saying about that?”

“I haven’t heard of any,” Dan frowned.

“Something about how if you want to know what someone fears losing, look at what they photograph.”

Dan paused, his brows raised in surprise. “That makes a lot of sense, actually. I take quite a few photos of nature. It’s probably the same tree with like, 5 different filters on it, but still. What about you?”

“Food. And dogs.” As he said this, he realised the slightly worrying amount of candids of Dan he’d taken. A week suddenly felt all too brief.

“Speaking of food,” Dan replied. Phil simply nodded.

Soon after, they stopped for lunch. It wasn’t the same as Café au Lait, but the sandwich he had was pleasant enough, and any time spent with Dan was an added bonus.

“If you could get any breed of dog, which one would you get?” Dan began, swirling the tea around in his mug.

“Good question. Probably a corgi. They’re just so small and chubby and fluffy and wonderful.”

Dan chuckled. “Corgis are sweet. I love labradors, though. They’re adorable.”

“They like long walks. As much as I love them, I don’t know if I can bring myself to do that.”

“You don’t like spending quality time with man’s best friend? This friendship is over.”

“We only made it to Day 2!” Phil protested. “You can’t quit on me!”

“I won’t, don’t worry,” Dan reassured him, his eyes crinkling. “We don’t have to follow that shitty schedule if you don’t want to, by the way. Isn’t it more exciting to be spontaneous?”

“I guess I’m not a massive fan of museums,” Phil confessed, “but it’d still be nice to look around some of them.”

“Noted. I’m assuming you’re not too keen on art galleries, then?”

“Art is such a funny thing. I feel like I’m supposed to see the deeper meaning in everything. Not that that’s bad, but it makes me feel inadequate.”

“’Inadequate’,” Dan wheezed. “That’s so funny.”

“It does!”

“Okay, okay, fine. It’s a good thing I didn’t book any of them. We could go to the London Aquarium, or Madame Tussaud’s or something. Those are both fun.”

“There’s an aquarium?” Phil asked, his curiosity piquing.

“Yeah? It’s near the London Eye. You can touch sea anemones if you want to.”

“I’m in.”

“I think it’s about 20 minutes from here by the Tube,” Dan mentioned. “It’s always sweaty and you can never find a seat, but it’s an integral part of coming to London.”

“Alright then,” Phil grinned. “The Tube it is.”

Dan wasn’t kidding when he’d said the Tube was sweaty. When they’d managed to squeeze into a carriage, the mixture of body odour and diesel was quite possibly the worst thing he’d ever smelt. Looking at Dan, he had an equally disgusted look on his face.

“This is fucking gross,” he whispered.

“Integral part of coming to London, remember?”

“I know, but still. It’s stuffy in here.”

“Summer is a particularly bad time of year,” Dan admitted. “They can’t really install air con down here, plus the ground above here is mostly clay. Great for keeping heat in, but not really ideal when it’s above 25°.”

The only source of comfort that came from this was the fact that Phil was pressed into Dan’s side, something he definitely wasn’t complaining about. Dan had tilted his head to the side slightly to avoid breathing in Phil’s hair.

Phil suddenly had the strange thought that he could probably nestle his head into Dan’s neck perfectly, and Dan could put his chin on top of his head. Gripping the pole tighter, he erased that image from his mind.

A monotonous voice sounded overhead. “The next station is Westminster. Change for Circle and District Lines. Exit for Westminster Abbey and Houses of Parliament.”

“Thank god,” Dan sighed.

As soon as the train stopped, they shoved their way out and got into a lift, which was unfortunately just as stuffy. When they’d finally made it outside, Phil inhaled the fresh air contentedly.

“Can we stick to taxis from now on?”

Dan laughed. “Good idea.”

They walked, side by side, across Westminster Bridge, until they arrived at the London Aquarium. Phil remembered the journey from the day before and smiled to himself.

Once they’d made it through the queue and inside, Phil’s eyes widened. The light from the tanks glowed in varying hues of aquamarine and azure and other colours he didn’t even know the name of. What he did know, though, was that the light hit Dan’s face perfectly.

“Phil?”

“Hm?”

“I think you were staring into space?”

“Oh,” Phil stuttered, his cheeks burning. “Oops.”

“I’m clearly so attractive,” Dan joked, flipping imaginary hair over his shoulder.

“Maybe,” he mumbled.

“What’d you say?”

“I, uh… nothing important.”

“Did you say ‘maybe’?” Dan pushed, a smile creeping up his lips.

“Fine,” Phil huffed, defeated. “I did.”

“I’m flattered.”

“Shut up. This is so embarrassing.”

As they made their way over the shark walk, Phil pressed his lips together to avoid saying anything else he’d end up regretting. Dan seemed surprisingly nonchalant, choosing to brush over Phil’s comment and focus on what they came to see.

After the shark walk, they got into a lift. From the corner of his eye, Phil saw Dan had a curious look on his face. Gulping, he looked away.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Dan suddenly whispered in his ear. A shiver ran down Phil’s spine.

“What?”

“‘Atlantic depths’! Let’s go.”

Showing complete disregard, Dan walked out of the lift, leaving Phil straggling behind him.

‘Atlantic depths’ had quite the selection of marine life; fish of all shapes, sizes and colours swam in the tanks on either side. Some had bright, jewel-toned scales, others more muted. Together, they cast a million pinpricks of light across the floor. Phil figured he’d have been able to appreciate it more if Dan wasn’t such a distraction.

The further they made their way through the various sections of the aquarium, the longer the silence stretched on. Dan casually snapped a couple of photos as they went along, and read some signs dotted around, but never opened his mouth once.

Nearly an hour later, Phil couldn’t take it anymore.

“Thanks.”

“For what?” Dan queried, feigning confusion.

“You know what you said.”

“No, I don’t.” He smiled coyly. “What did I say?”

“For god’s sake. You said I ‘wasn’t too bad’.”

“And I’m not a liar. Come on, we’ve nearly finished.”

Sure enough, as soon as they turned the corner, they’d reached the exit. Phil winced slightly, letting his eyes adjust to the sunlight streaming in. Since it was not mid-afternoon, it had cooled to a more comfortable temperature, something he appreciated. As weird as it sounded, Dan made him feel flushed constantly.

Stepping outside, Dan stopped and glanced at his phone.

“It’s only 5pm. You fancy doing anything else today?”

Phil thought if he spent any more time with Dan, he’d explode.

“Honestly, I’m pretty tired. You don’t want to see grumpy Phil.”

“Fair enough,” Dan replied, but Phil sensed a hint of disappointment in his voice. “So… what d’you want to do tomorrow? Since the whole art gallery thing isn’t happening.”

“PJ might be free tomorrow,” Phil mentioned. Dan seemed to perk up a little. “We could have a more chill day? Brunch, or something.”

“That sounds pretty damn nice, come to think of it,” Dan chuckled. “Text me when you know what’s happening.”

“I will. Today was fun, though. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

The sun had slowly began to set, bathing Dan in an aura similar to the one when they first met. Unable to hold back, Phil wrapped his arms around him. Instantly, Dan wound his arms around Phil’s back.

They stood there, in a simple yet indescribably warm embrace. Phil’s head was against Dan’s neck and Dan’s chin was resting on top of it. To passers-by, they probably looked strange, holding onto each other for way longer than normal, but he couldn’t care less.

With his mind filled with dying sunlight and the smell of Dan’s cologne and the softness of his skin, for the first time in his life, Phil felt complete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like this is coming along nicely i'm happy lmao
> 
> also this has nearly 100 kudos and that seems like a lot to me? omg? thank u so much :')
> 
> and Also school has decided to bombard me with a stupid amount of work so i'm not 100% sure i can get chapter 6 out for next sunday :( as much as i love writing this i can't really afford to fail lmao but i'll try my hardest !!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so i know i promised this for wednesday but technically it's only been thursday for 10 minutes forgive me
> 
> anyway! i hope u enjoy xx

“What’s he like in person? Is he more attractive? What’s his personality like?”

PJ fired out a number of random questions to no one in particular, pacing up and down Phil’s hotel room. Phil simply sat on his bed and laughed at how wound up he was. If Dan was here, Phil guessed he’d be laughing too. It was endearing.

“Calm down,” he replied. “We’re just going out for brunch-”

“ _Brunch_?”

“What’s your problem with brunch?” Phil asked, affronted.

“No straight person ever talks about brunch! You’re stressing me out even more!”

Phil didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh or bury his face in a pillow. PJ’s stress seemed to diffuse through the air and into his skin, as he suddenly found himself worrying. The dynamic PJ and Phil had could be completely different to anything Dan was used to, and Phil didn’t want to have to change himself.

“You’re stressing yourself out,” he chastised. “Dan doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’d be too judgemental, anyway.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“You’ve never met him!”

“Fine. Whatever. What time are we heading out?”

“A few minutes? Around midday is a good time for b-”

“The meal that’s a mixture of breakfast and lunch,” PJ interjected. Phil wheezed. When PJ was stressed about something, it wasn’t half-hearted.

“Call it what you will.”

“If you say that word again I’ll have no choice but to rugby tackle you to the floor.”

“That’s a bit extreme.”

“No it isn’t.”

“It’s 6 fucking letters! You’re ridiculous.”

“Call it what you will,” PJ retorted, throwing Phil’s words back in his face.

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“I don’t care. It doesn’t have to.”

“You’re insufferable. At this rate, you can just stay here while I have a lovely-”

“Don’t you d-”

“- _brunch_ with Dan.”

“I hate you.”

-

The location Dan had suggested for brunch was the opposite of what Café au Lait was. While it was warm and chic and cosy, this restaurant was more modern and refined, with sleek edges and walls covered with art. Instead of tables, there were leather booths and a bar.

Pressing his face against the window, Phil could see people sitting at tables, talking with friends or tapping their phones. Since PJ refused to move, Phil ended up grabbing his hand and dragging him inside.

Inside, the modern theme continued. The woven tables and vases of flowers at Café au Lait were a stark contrast to the metallic barstools and industrial lighting he saw around him. While it had been warm, this was pleasantly cool.

“Damn,” Phil exhaled. “This is different.”

“Dan really does have taste,” PJ sighed, looking around him. He paused suddenly, and Phil heard him gasp. “Is that…?”

Following his eyes, Phil saw Dan sitting in a booth. He was looking down at his phone, his curls flopping in his face ever so slightly. What was more noticeable, though, was the fact that he was wearing actual colour, in the form of an khaki t-shirt.

“Well I’ll be damned,” he muttered, shooting him a quick text.

“You really just texted him instead of waving to get his attention?” PJ asked. “Millennials these days.”

“You’re one to talk.”

_Look up_

Phil watched as Dan received the text and frowned before glancing up. As he caught Phil’s eyes, his face broke out into a smile and he beckoned him over.

“Moving swiftly onwards,” PJ whispered to him, “he’s even better looking in person.”

“Shut up.”

Phil rammed his elbow as discreetly into PJ’s side as he could before they were in front of the booth Dan was sitting in.

As much as PJ annoyed him, he was right. The colour of the t-shirt complimented Dan’s skin tone well and made his brown eyes stand out. Long story short, the man knew how to look good. When they were at the booth, he sprung up.

“Hey, Phil. Is this the friend you were talking about?”

“It is,” he replied, trying to maintain his composure. “Dan, meet PJ, my drunk Mario Kart buddy-”

Dan snorted.

“-and PJ, meet Dan, my, uh, new found friend.”

PJ and Dan shook hands before all three of them slid into the booth, with Phil opposite Dan and PJ opposite an empty space. Phil felt an odd twinge of sympathy for him.

Upon reading the menu, Phil decided this was the kind of restaurant for people who didn’t settle for the everyday. Each item came embellished with something, or served with a sauce that didn’t even sound like it belonged on earth.

Phil ended up ordering some soup with bread (technically, it was described as a ‘rich and hearty minestrone style broth, accompanied by stone baked ciabatta’), which wasn’t appropriate for brunch, but he didn’t care. The menu had given him such a headache that he went for the first thing that sounded vaguely normal.

Since PJ dabbled with veganism, he opted for avocado toast ( _who's the millenial now_ , Phil thought) with salsa and a smoothie, which seemed to gain him Dan’s approval, as he also chose a smoothie to go with his burrito.

“The smoothies here are amazing,” he mentioned casually. “They’re part of the reason why I chose to come here for brunch.”

PJ choked on air. Smiling in silent victory to himself, Phil nudged PJ’s ankle under the table.

“Smoothies are a good accompaniment to brunch,” Phil hummed in reply. “Not really something I have much of, since Manchester is always so bloody cold, but they’re good.”

“It is,” Dan chuckled, before turning to PJ. “So, Phil said you live near here, right?”

“I do,” PJ piped up. “My place is inbetween St James’ Park and the Thames. Not too big, not too small. It’s cosy.”

“Sounds cosy,” Dan trailed off. “Phil mentioned a party on Saturday, so I was just… curious.”

“Oh. Right. That won’t be anything too wild. At this rate, it’ll probably be the three of us and a couple of my friends.”

“Alright.”

“Yeah,” Phil added. “Plus it’s a nice way to say ‘thank you’ for all the sightseeing stuff we’ve been doing.”

“Sightseeing?” PJ asked, feigning confusion.

“Phil said you were working this week, so I’ve been showing him around,” Dan clarified. “It’s basically just been the touristy stuff.”

“You made a damn itinerary,” Phil said. “There was the London Eye, Big Ben, Buckingham Palace…”

“The Natural History Museum-”

“Does that count? We ditched it for the London Aquarium,” Phil frowned.

“We still went to it,” Dan countered. “Won’t make that mistake again.”

“It wasn’t that bad. I just don’t think I’d have managed all those museums and art galleries. London has a tonne of culture, but not all of it needs to be seen.”

PJ, the resident expert in art and fashion, guffawed.

“You two can’t just do the touristy stuff!” he protested.

“Then what do you suggest?” Phil replied drily.

“Visit a market, or go shopping, or drop by the National Theatre and watch a show. Literally anything.”

“You make a fair point.”

“I had planned for us to get tours of the National Theatre and The Globe,” Dan murmured.

Dan’s words were drowned out, as at that moment, a waiter came with their meals. Phil’s eyes lit up as soon as he saw his soup. It had been served in a pretty porcelain bowl, with a small side dish of cheese that he was secretly thankful for. Mixed into other foods, cheese was semi-acceptable, but it was nice to have the option of adding it or not.

When the dish had been placed before him, curls of steam wafted up to his nostrils, filling them with a rich aroma. Looking across the table, Phil saw Dan opening his burrito up with the patience (and skill – almost) of a surgeon.

“Did they not wrap it well enough?” he queried, bemused.

Dan set his knife down and laughed. “I like adding all the condiments to it before eating it. Adds to the flavour.”

“Oh.”

A calm silence lingered in the air as the three of them tucked in. Phil’s soup was messy to eat, but it was one of the best things he’d ever tasted. He had to hold himself back from groaning out of sheer pleasure.

After a while, PJ spoke up.

“I could take the National Theatre tour,” he suggested. “I’m working on costumes there for a play that’s coming up. Employee pass, and all.”

Phil almost spat out his mouthful of soup.

“You _work_ there?”

“Yeah? You must be losing your hearing in your old age.”

“Shut up!”

“I’m only teasing.”

“I know, I just – when did you plan on telling me that?”

PJ shrugged. “At some point. You were so preoccupied with talking about Dan that I never really brought it up.”

“Wait,” Dan interrupted, glancing at Phil, “you’ve talked about me?”

Phil’s cheeks felt hot. “Maybe.”

“He never bloody shuts up about you,” PJ added.

Dan took a bite out of his burrito to hide his face. Phil felt like pouring the contents of his soup bowl down his crotch would be less painful than the situation he now found himself in. Grumbling, he ripped off a chunk of bread and lobbed it at PJ.

“That’s a bit harsh,” he chided, wiping crumbs off his shoulder. “Sorry for saying that. I didn’t come here to third wheel.”

“What makes you think you’re third wheeling?” Dan asked, cautious. He looked at PJ momentarily before turning to Phil.

His eyes met Phil’s with a gentle curiosity that reminded him of the dream he’d had. A million unspoken thoughts and feelings lay before them; the uncertainty of new beginnings, of what lay ahead, was all held together with a lingering gaze where brown met blue.

PJ flickered between them, at a loss for words.

“I guess third wheeling wasn’t the best phrase to use,” he corrected himself. “It’s just you two have been spending some time together recently.”

Phil raised a brow. “Well, you’re not wrong.”

“But claiming that you’re ‘third wheeling’ makes it sound like we’re married,” Dan pointed out. “I am painfully single, but we’ve known each other less than a week.”

Dan’s confession stirred something within Phil, something that was tentative yet urgent. If Dan was insinuating what Phil thought he was, things suddenly seemed very different.

Watching Dan through his (conveniently placed) fringe, he wondered how anyone as beautiful as him could be single. Depending on the light, his eyes looked anywhere from dark ochre to burnt honey, but they always shone warmly. Whenever he took a sip of his smoothie, his dimple appeared, something Phil had to fight the urge to poke. He had to fight the urge to do a lot of things around him.

The air around them was thick with the absence of words, as Dan’s eyes returned to Phil’s once more. As their meals had all been eaten, they simply sat, teetering on the edge of _something_ , something Phil couldn’t quite put a finger on.

Like Dan, Phil had been painfully single for as long as he could remember. Growing up, Phil had a habit of pushing everyone away, including family at times. In some ways, it was protection, but deep down, he knew it was because he didn’t want anyone to stay.

As pretentious as that sounded, it was the truth. Phil was generally on the timid side, so the thought of talking was intimidating enough, let alone actually having anything more than a friend.

“Well, that makes three of us,” PJ mentioned bluntly. Phil tore his eyes away from Dan to look at PJ. His eyes were slightly downcast, with a smile playing on his lips. He knew exactly what he was doing. If Dan wasn’t there, PJ would have been decked already.

“We can be a sad single club,” Dan mused, looking at Phil with a strange expression on his face.

“We can,” Phil replied.

Just then, a waitress came to take their plates away. As grateful as he was for it, he wasn’t sure it was the best timing. He’d found himself in a sort of unintentional staring contest with Dan, and it seemed like neither of them wanted to lose.

“I’m down,” PJ added. “We can have club meetings where we watch movies and read books about people’s perfect lives and cry about how lonely we are.”

Dan grinned. “Sounds good to me.”

“Our first meeting could be on Saturday,” Phil joked.

“No!” PJ retorted. “Saturday’s for playing video games and getting drunk.”

“Forgetting about our loneliness, basically,” Dan clarified. “About the party – I know you said it’s chill but I have nothing to wear that’s vaguely presentable.”

“Me neither, come to think of it,” Phil replied, frowning.

“That’s our afternoon sorted then," he grinned.

“I’m sorry?”

“We’re going shopping to buy party attire! It’ll be perfect. I can take you to Oxford Circus and Bond Street and everything.”

“Alright then.”

Shortly after, the three of them were leaving the restaurant. Much to Phil’s disgust, PJ suggested travelling by tube to Oxford Circus, which meant suffering through the stench of stale air and the invasion of his privacy once more.

Huddling himself into one corner of the carriage, Phil gripped a pole and waited for the voice overhead.

“This is Oxford Circus,” said the overhead voice. “Change here for the Bakerloo and Central Lines.”

Phil let out a small sigh of relief. Once they’d exited from the station, he found himself near a crossroads. To his left, there was a selection of shops, with people flitting in and out, and to his right, even more shops and people. London was packed.

“Topshop’s probably a good choice to start with,” Dan suggested. “They’re affordable for the most part and they sell nice stuff.”

“I buy, like, everything from there,” Phil laughed. “I’m fairly sure the Manchester employees know my name by now.”

As they entered, it became apparent that there were some slight differences between the Topshop in Manchester and the Topshop here, namely, the amount of people and the sheer size of it. Feeling slightly intimidated, Phil followed Dan’s lead and they made their way to the Topman section.

“So, Phil,” PJ said. “Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to find some party attire. And by ‘party attire’, I mean no shirts with stupid prints, no shirts with clashing colours, no–”

“Okay, I get it,” Phil replied, rolling his eyes.

Scanning the various racks, nothing immediately stood out. Phil didn’t consider himself capable of pulling off half the stuff they sold – he wasn’t muscular, or toned, and his skin was so pale that any colour that was too light completely washed him out.

The harder he searched, the harder it became. His eyes were drawn to bright colours, and cute patterns, both things which PJ refused to let him wear. Of course, PJ had Phil’s best interests at heart, but he was struggling.

Across the store, Phil saw Dan holding up what looked like a shirt. From a distance, it was hard to tell exactly what the shirt looked like, but Dan seemed keen on it, as he brought it with him and made his way back to Phil and PJ.

“How about this one?” he asked, holding it up.

The shirt Dan had picked out was beautiful – a dark, midnight blue one speckled with white paint dots to look like stars. With Dan’s skin tone, he’d look incredible. Phil was already getting distracted at the thought of it.

“I think it’d look nice on you,” Phil said, earnestly. “It’s a pretty colour.”

“It is,” Dan hummed in agreement. “But I actually picked it out for you.”

“For me?” Phil’s jaw was slightly hanging open in disbelief.

“Yes! You should try it on. I think it’ll bring out your eyes.”

“I, yeah, sure.”

Phil made his way to the changing room, dragging PJ with him and trying to regulate his breathing. Dan had picked out a shirt for him. And not just any old shirt, a beautifully made one to ‘bring out his eyes’. It wasn’t something he’d have ever seen himself wearing, but due to the person who chose it for him, he was willing to at least try it.

Slipping the shirt on, it felt comfortable. Dan was a good judge of size, as it fit nicely around his shoulders and he could button it up without feeling like he'd die of asphyxiation. Once it was on, he looked at himself in the mirror and tilted his head slightly.

The blue of the shirt did make his eyes pop. It was understated, but the closer you looked, the more you saw.

“How it is?” PJ asked, from the other side of the curtain.

“Different,” Phil replied. “But I actually really like it.”

“Let me see.”

“Fine.”

As soon as PJ saw Phil, his eyes lit up with a mixture of surprise and happiness.

“Holy shit,” he murmured. “That suits you well. And it doesn’t have anything ugly about it. That’s a first.”

“Shut up.”

Moments later, Dan came out from behind a curtain, wearing a black shirt with dusty pink and grey flowers on it. Phil blinked to stop himself from staring.

“Phil!” he laughed. “That looks so good on you!”

“You’re one to talk,” he replied. “I didn’t peg you as a floral kind of guy.”

“To be honest, I’m willing to try quite a lot of things in life.”

“That’s admirable,” Phil mused. “I think you should buy it.”

“I’ll strike you a deal, Mr Lester. I’ll buy this shirt if you buy the shirt you’re wearing. No ifs or buts. Just a yes or no answer.”

Ignoring the anxiety swirling in his stomach, Phil replied “yes.” Squealing with delight, Dan hurried over to him and gave him an unexpected hug. It was far too short, as Phil only got to be surrounded by Dan’s warmth for seconds, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

“Well, looks like we’re sorted,” PJ chipped in. “Let’s buy these bad boys and go the fuck home.”

“Unless you want to go to Bond Street?” Dan suggested.

“I googled it the other day. It’s all designer stuff. I think I’d be too intimidated. I can barely manage Topshop, for fuck’s sake.”

“Good point. Let’s just buy these and go, then. It’s already nearing 5pm.”

“It’s 4:01?”

“That’s what I said,” Dan replied.

After they’d bought the shirts, the three of them stood, debating what to do.

“I don’t know about you guys,” Dan began, “but brunch and shopping has worn me out. I’m probably going to go home and nap.”

“Relatable,” Phil chuckled. “I might just head back to the hotel room and have a chill evening? I’m tired.”

“While you fuckers can nap,” PJ grumbled, “I have to design a costume for a baby in the play. The fucking baby. You can’t even see him half the time because he’s in the crib.”

“Working at the National Theatre must be so hard,” Phil whined. PJ slapped him lightly on the arm before they finally left Topshop.

For the third (and hopefully final) time, they took the Tube. The first stop was PJ’s, who gave them a cheery wave before hopping off. Then Dan and Phil were alone together again, and Phil felt a strange sense of déjà vu.

The last time they were pressed this close was the previous Tube journey. It was almost worth putting up with the horrible smell. Dan’s breaths rustled Phil’s hair ever so slightly, and his head fit perfectly under Dan’s chin.

Since some unknown deity had decided to take pity on him, Phil and Dan had the same Tube stop. From the station, it was a short walk to Phil’s hotel.

Afternoon had blurred into evening in a watercolour haze, with the sun slowly sinking and wispy clouds tangled in the sky. Phil walked with his hands in his pockets, trying to not pay attention to the figure walking beside him.

They passed the journey without speaking a single word, yet it didn’t feel the slightest bit awkward. It was almost strange how they got along so well with each other in such a short space of time. They were simply content to be in each other’s company and get swept away in the hum of London by evening.

Once they’d reached the hotel, Dan stopped Phil and took him to one side, away from the main doors where there were people and security cameras. Frowning, Phil looked up at him. His eyes were swimming.

Slowly, Dan leant down and pressed a soft kiss on Phil’s cheek. He blushed instantly, ducking his head away, and Phil found himself laughing.

“I’m sorry,” Dan apologised. “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”

Phil’s heart was pounding in his throat. “Y-you have?”

“Yeah,” Dan said sheepishly.

“You muffin.”

“Shut up,” he laughed. “Listen, I don’t know what you want to do tomorrow, but the weather’s supposed to be good so…”

“So?”

“Fancy a picnic? They’re a staple here in summertime. I can’t imagine you having all that many up in Manchester.”

Phil chuckled. “No, we don’t. But I’d really like to. We can buy stuff somewhere tomorrow, presumably.”

“Yeah. I’ll text you.”

“Okay.”

They smiled gently at each other. In a surge of courage, Dan kissed Phil’s cheek again.

“Today was fun. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Before Phil had time to process his thoughts and choke out a reply, Dan was already walking up the street and into the distance. Staring at his back, he was suddenly reminded of a passing comment PJ had made.

_“The universe works in mysterious ways in your favour, Phil Lester.”_

At that moment, he believed it did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hi hello
> 
> exciting news !! i'll be able to update this more frequently during summer :')
> 
> also i might be getting ahead of myself but this is approaching 1k hits and that's such a wild number to me. thank u all so much for the continued support <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long time no see! sorry this chapter is so late, i've been on holiday and a lot of stuff has happened lmao
> 
> also fun fact: i wrote most of this on the flight back
> 
> anyway! i hope u enjoy :')

As it turned out, Dan and Phil had varying ideas on what a picnic should be. 

For Phil, someone who was mainly unaccustomed to them, he enjoyed the concept of a few snacks on a blanket in a park. Needless to say, when he opened his door to see Dan brandishing a picnic basket and sporting a grin, he was a little taken aback.

“Ready for a picnic you’ll never forget?”

“I guess,” he replied, lost for words. “What’s in there?”

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

“Can you at least tell me where we’re going?” Phil asked, exasperated.

“A park.”

Phil chuckled. “I got that far. Any specifics?”

“It’ll be good,” Dan gave in. “I promise.”

Glancing over at him, Phil was reminded of the day before. Dan hadn’t been particularly vocal about why he’d been so generous with his time, or why he’d done anything. For all Phil knew, it might have been nothing, but deep down, some stubborn part of him refused to believe that.

 _He kissed you on the cheek twice yesterday_ , a small voice in his head reminded him.

He didn’t need reminding. Although they’d been pecks at most, Dan’s lips were pleasantly warm. Everything about him was warm, and having Dan so close to him made Phil buzz with tentative excitement.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” Dan asked, ripping Phil from his thoughts. The puzzled look on his face reminded him slightly of a lost puppy.

“No! I do, it’s just-”

“Just?”

“You really didn’t have to do this for me. Any of this.”

Dan’s face softened. “I know. I want to.”

“You want to?”

“You berk,” Dan laughed. “Yes. Yes, I want to. We’re friends and I’m being a good friend. I’m sticking to what I promised you, whether you like it or not.”

“Fine,” Phil grumbled. “I’m only being practical. We’ve known each other for less than a week.”

“There are people who get married on the same day of meeting each other.”

“Point taken.”

Once they were in a taxi, Dan made Phil close his eyes. They both knew it was dramatic, but Dan couldn’t be convinced otherwise. Phil begrudgingly sat in darkness, feeling the car whir around him. It wasn’t the most enjoyable experience he’d ever had.

A gentle tap on his shoulder let him know that they’d arrived at their destination. Opening his eyes, he adjusted to his surroundings. From the car window, he could see that the park Dan had chosen was full of greenery, and although there were a few people dotted about, it was mainly empty.

“Where d’you want to sit?” Dan asked.

“What kind of a tour guide expects the person they’re guiding to know anything about where they’ve been taken to?”

Dan guffawed in surprise.

“I see how it is.”

Before Phil had a chance to reply, Dan sulked off in search of somewhere to sit. Rolling his eyes, Phil trailed behind, taking in the scenery as he went along. The road the taxi had stopped on ran through the middle of the park, which was lush with sun-soaked grass and trees that swayed gently. It wasn’t a particularly nice day, with the sky sombre and dense with cloud, but there was a certain calmness that made his insides flutter.

When he finally caught up with Dan, he saw that he’d laid out a blanket and was already unpacking the picnic basket. There was a small selection of snacks, including Phil’s favourite, Doritos, and a bottle of Ribena.

“So much for going to buy the food together,” he said, grinning.

“Oh yeah. I guess I got ahead of myself.”

“You do that a lot.”

“I do not!” Dan protested. “Fuck you. I’m being a good person.”

“Good people don’t swear like that,” Phil tutted. “Think of the children.”

“There’s barely anyone here,” Dan pointed out. “I chose to sit here for a reason. It’s more secluded than other parks.”

Glancing around, Phil saw what Dan meant. In fact, it was so secluded that it felt like they were the only two people there. Though Phil wasn’t entirely sure why Dan would want to be alone with him (despite his mind going to places it shouldn’t), he wasn’t complaining.

Once he’d sat down beside Dan, they began eating. There was a small lull in the conversation, where he was content with simply enjoying the nature around him and being in Dan’s presence. After a while, though, curiosity got the better of him.

“Dan?”

“Hm?”

With Dan’s eyes fixed on him, Phil’s mouth went dry.

“I, uh, I…”

“You…?”

“I was wondering why, you, why you, you –”

“Go on.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Do what?” At this point, Dan had sat up slightly and was looking over at Phil, puzzled.

“Before you left, yesterday,” Phil added, his cheeks burning.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Because I wanted to,” Dan finally answered, with a small smile. “I’m sorry if I startled you. I think I told you after I did it, but I couldn’t help myself.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed it, but – this is all so fast. I’ve never become this close with anyone in such a short amount of time. Hell, it took me nearly a year to believe that PJ wanted to be friends with me.”

“No, I get you,” Dan replied. “It’s all been kind of crazy. I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s not your fault. If anything, it’s me. I take way too long to trust people, but I’m working on it.”

“I’d like to think you can trust me.”

“You’ve proven yourself enough already, you prick,” Phil chuckled. “Of course I trust you.”

“Well, that’s good. I could’ve poisoned this food, though.”

Phil gasped in fake shock. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would.”

“I take that back. I don’t trust you anymore.”

Dan clutched his chest. “You’ve wounded me.”

“My sincerest apologies. Now, if you’ll let me, I’m going to eat.”

“Fine.”

As Phil worked his way through an entire packet of Doritos and half a jar of salsa and Dan munched on some grapes, the clouds slowly dissipated. With the sun slowly beginning to peek out, the world around him lit up.

When the two of them had finished, Dan sat up and turned to Phil.

“Have you ever gone cloud gazing?”

“What’s that?”

“It’s where you lie down and look at the clouds and see if they look like anything. I’ve done it alone before, but it’s more exciting with someone else.”

“Okay.”

Dan hurriedly shoved all of the empty packets into the picnic basket before setting it aside and scooting over to sit next to Phil. With Phil watching, he lay back on the blanket and gazed up at the sky. When Phil also laid back, their shoulders were brushing together.

“If I look like I’m about to fall asleep, just whack me,” Dan warned.

“Sure. So, cloud gazing. Do I just look at a cloud and say if it looks like something?”

“Basically. Like… that cloud up there looks like an egg.”

“How creative.”

Dan snorted. “Shut up. I’d like to see you do better.”

“Challenge accepted.”

Looking up at the clouds, Phil nearly ate his words. To him, they all looked the same, nothing that struck him as anything else other than a collection of tiny droplets of water. Racking his brain, he stared at one cloud until an idea popped into his head.

“That cloud looks like a flower.”

“It does not,” Dan argued.

“Does too! Look.” Grabbing Dan’s hand, he showed him what he meant. “See, there’s the stem and there are the petals. It’s a flower.”

“Then what about that bit at the bottom?”

“Flowers grow from the ground, don’t they? It has to have roots somewhere.”

“Fine. Well played, Mr Lester. My turn.”

When Dan was looking up at the sky, Phil’s eyes flickered over to him and he realised how close together they were. Dan was biting his lip in concentration, making his dimple stand out, and his skin was adorned with freckles. He smelt of something faintly spicy, but undeniably _him_.

“There’s a cloud to the left of the flower cloud that looks like a dog.”

“Shut up. That’s impossible.”

“No, it isn’t. If you tilt your head slightly you can see the ear and the tongue.”

“Quite a few animals have ears and tongues, Dan.”

Dan grumbled. “You make a fair point. I’m going to take the benefit of the doubt and say it’s a dog, though. Your turn.”

“How long does this continue on for?”

“As long as you want it to. There isn’t much else we can do.”

“Don’t sound so apologetic. I like it here.”

“Good. Your turn.”

Though he’d only spotted one cloud, he was already running out of ideas.

“That cloud looks like a cloud.”

Dan lightly slapped Phil, laughing.

“You’re a genius. I’ve obviously never thought of that one before.”

“I couldn’t think of any! I’m not a creative person.”

“Well, you’re a travel journalist, right? That requires some level of creativity.”

“I guess,” Phil sighed. “At least, I try to be creative. I’ve been trying to get a promotion for ages.”

“What better way to test your creativity than to go cloud gazing?”

“Fine. I’ll try. Don’t laugh at me if I come up with a really stupid one, though.”

“Why would I laugh at you?”

Ignoring him, Phil stared at the neverending expanse above him and tried to let his imagination run wild. Annoyingly, most of the clouds were just plain round. He wasn’t sure Dan would appreciate another smartass comment.

“That cloud kind of looks like Mickey Mouse.”

“You know what? I see that.”

“I know it’s not the most creative, or anything, but I just saw the ears and it clicked.”

"I get you. Okay, my-"

Dan yawned suddenly. Phil found himself yawning, too.

“Am I keeping you up?” he asked.

“No,” Dan replied. “I’m sorry. It’s just so cosy and warm here. Don’t let me fall asleep.”

“I won’t.”

Despite Phil’s best efforts, he found himself curling up. With the sun warm on his skin and Dan steadily breathing beside him, he drifted off.

When he woke up, he wasn’t lying on a blanket anymore. Instead, he found himself in a bed. Dan was beside him, fondly gazing at him, and everything seemed ever so slightly out of focus. He felt a strange sense of déjà vu. 

The next thing he knew was Dan’s hands on him, weaving through his hair and caressing his jaw, neck, arms, everywhere. Even the slightest touch was enough to send him into a frenzy, and a breathless moan escaped his lips before he had time to think.

“Babe?” Dan asked, his pretty doe eyes darkening.

“Please,” he uttered, leaning back and letting Dan work his magic.

Then Dan’s mouth was all over him, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses that made the knot in his stomach grow even tighter. The air was electric with desire as he worked his way down Phil’s body, every kiss driving him more and more over the edge.

As Dan had nearly made it down, he began fading. Frowning, Phil reached out to touch him, but he crumbled into dust in his hands. From somewhere far away, a voice started calling out.

“Phil!”

“Huh?”

Jerking awake, Phil saw Dan had both hands on his shoulders. He knew instantly that this was real – he wasn’t dreaming, and Dan was very much right in front of him.

“You absolute idiot,” he chuckled, still holding him.

“What happened?” Phil asked, his voice still slurred from sleep.

“Look around and take a wild guess.”

Once Phil had properly woken up, he realised they were still in the park. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep for, but the sun had set and everything around him was cloaked in hazy darkness.

“Pardon my language, but shit. What time is it?”

“Nearly 11pm. The park closed nearly 2 hours ago.”

“You mean we’re trapped in here?”

“Not necessarily,” Dan replied. “All the gates will be locked by now, but I think we could climb over a fence and get a taxi to your hotel.”

“This is so wild,” Phil mumbled. “How the hell are we going to escape? I can just about see you.”

“Your eyes will adjust to the darkness soon enough. Just make sure you tread carefully. I don’t think there’s anyone patrolling, but God knows who else is here.”

“Okay,” Phil said, feeling his heart hammer in his chest. “What about the picnic basket?”

“It doesn’t matter. What matters right now is getting out of here. I’m tired.”

“You didn’t sleep just now?”

“Not anywhere near as long as you did,” Dan mentioned. “I kept trying to wake you up.”

“Oops.”

“Anyway. Follow my lead.”

Taking Dan’s hand, Phil stood up and began to make his way along the grass. His legs were shaking, but the grass he was treading on was soft and quiet. When they’d made it to a path, Dan walked beside it rather than on it to keep the noise levels down.

In the almost-darkness, time seemed to stretch on indefinitely. He had no idea how long they’d been walking for, but when Dan stopped, he knew they’d nearly made it.

“Here comes the fun part,” he sighed. “Fences have spikes for a reason.”

“We’re going to have to climb over somehow,” Phil frowned. “It’s too late to turn back.”

“You make it sound like we’re in some kind of action movie.” Though he couldn’t see him, Phil guessed Dan was rolling his eyes. “If you go first, I can help you up.”

“What about you?”

“You can pull me up.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very good plan.”

“Do you have anything better?”

“I don’t know. Are there no walls or hedges we could climb up instead?”

Dan audibly exhaled. “Bingo.”

“Bingo?”

“You know the way we came in?”

“Vaguely.”

“To our left was the National Maritime Museum. The entrance to that has a wall we could climb up.”

“Fine. We better not get caught.”

Regaining his grip on Dan’s hand, Phil walked back the way they’d come for a while before they turned left. Ahead of him, Phil could make out a building.

“There’s a flowerbed you have to step over,” Dan warned. “Let me go first.”

Once Dan had made it onto the wall (which Phil assumed was low enough for him to step onto), he reached out for Phil’s hand and held it.

“Just take a big step and you’ll be fine.”

Putting his faith into Dan, Phil took a step and felt his foot land on something solid. With a slight push and Dan holding onto him, he made it.

“That was intense,” Dan laughed. “We’re nearly there. C’mon.”

Since the wall was on the thinner side, Phil had to settle for putting one foot in front of the other as quietly as he could until Dan stopped in front of him.

“The wall gets pretty high. I can probably haul myself up, then I’ll pull you up.”

“If you’re sure.”

The night chill seemed to penetrate him, as his entire body shook. Part of him wondered whether it would have been easier to just sleep with Dan under a tree, away from the world. Not being able to see Dan properly made him worry.

After Dan was standing on the wall, he called down to Phil, breathless.

“I’m up.”

“What do I do now?”

“Grab my hands and take a big step up. As big as you can.”

“I’ll try.”

Holding onto Dan’s hands, Phil eventually got up and nearly toppled over. The height of the wall let him see around. Though it was late, there were still streetlights glowing, like jewels embedded in the velvet twilight. Across the road, there was a pub, with boisterous music blasting down the street.

In the park, Phil had been in his own little bubble with Dan. It had just been the two of them, talking about whatever aimless topic sprung to mind, or cloud gazing, or even napping together. Looking back, he felt slightly guilty that he hadn’t been able to stay awake for longer.

Once they’d both jumped down from the wall, whatever tranquil bubble they’d been in had officially popped. Pulling out his phone, Dan called for a taxi.

As they waited, they huddled together for warmth before Phil gave in and wrapped his arms around Dan. Dan easily wrapped his arms around Phil, and the surge in heat was worth it. They were pressed so tightly together that he felt Dan’s heart through his chest, and his warm breaths on his hair.

When the taxi finally arrived, they clambered in and slumped on the backseat. Dan let his head rest on Phil’s shoulder, and Phil let his head rest on Dan’s.

Since it was so late, there was little traffic on the roads, meaning their journey was significantly shorter than the previous one, something Phil was grateful for. He ended up paying the taxi driver double, because he was sleep deprived and in a weirdly generous mood.

“I can call another taxi to my place,” Dan said, yawning.

Dan looked so sleepy that Phil couldn’t resist. “You could stay with me tonight.”

“I’d rather have a bed than the floor, but thanks for the offer.”

“My room has a double bed. We can share.”

Dan’s eyes widened. “If you’re comfortable with that, then sure.”

Phil was definitely comfortable with that idea. When they’d made it to his room, Dan flopped on the bed while Phil went to wash his face and give himself a small pep talk in the mirror.

As water dripped down his face, he stared at his greasy hair and lacklustre eyes and wondered whether Dan saw anything in him. He wasn’t _unattractive_ by any means, but comparing himself to Dan was like comparing a diamond and a piece of charcoal.

Shaking himself out of it, he dried his face and promised himself that he’d stay on his side of the bed. Though he wanted to cuddle Dan, to have their limbs tangled together and foreheads touching, he knew it was too soon. He was getting ahead of himself, as he often did.

Padding out of the bathroom, Phil saw Dan snoring softly on his bed. Being as gentle as he could, he pulled the duvet out from underneath Dan’s body and tucked him in before climbing into bed.

When he thought Dan was asleep, he rolled over and kissed his cheek.

“Goodnight, Dan.”

Dan smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading!
> 
> since i finally have the time this'll hopefully be updated more frequently (i'll aim for wednesdays and sundays) and there's gonna be about 18 chapters in total how fun
> 
> until next time <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well howdy! i know this was supposed to be up on wednesday and it's now friday morning but i promise i'm trying lmao
> 
> i hope u enjoy !! this is a good chapter (you'll see why) <3

Waking up in someone’s arms wasn’t something Phil was used to.

Although he’d dreamed about it numerous times, it hadn’t felt as real, as tangible as it was in that moment. His arm was across Dan’s stomach, his head against his shoulder. Not wanting to move, he lay still and listened to the steady rise and fall of Dan’s breathing.

He couldn’t quite wrap his head around the fact that they’d only known each other for the best part of a week. In one sense, it was alarming how close he felt to Dan, despite not knowing that much about him; in another sense, Dan had filled his future with the excitement of getting to know him. They’d clicked right from the moment they’d first met – from there, it had only improved.

As much as he wanted to jump in headfirst, the more rational side of him decided against that. He wasn’t sure he’d ever had feelings quite like the ones he had for Dan, and rushing things wouldn’t help. Before too long, life would fly before him. He wanted to savour each moment as it came.

The thought of what was happening later that night popped into his mind, and he bit back a smile. He hadn’t seen what Dan was like in a party atmosphere. Day by day, he was finding out more and more about him; he was intoxicating yet saccharine, alluring enough to keep him coming back.

Seeing Dan in such an innocent state made it even harder for Phil to finally roll over and climb out of bed. When he was waking himself up in the bathroom, memories of the day before came back to him. Chuckling softly, he ruffled his hair one more time before seeing if Dan was awake.

Phil turned the corner to see Dan looking around, a slightly puzzled look on his face. Upon seeing Phil, he blinked before smiling, his eyes sleepy and bright.

“Mornin’,” Dan yawned.

“Hey. How’d you sleep?”

“Like a baby,” he replied, stretching out. “Yesterday was such a blur. I was exhausted.”

Phil felt a pang of guilt. “I guess I didn’t help things.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Dan chastised him. “I napped too. Although I guess napping for an hour isn’t as bad as napping for 6 hours.”

Phil’s jaw nearly hit the floor. 6 hours?

“We had to climb up a wall to get out of the park,” he countered. “I think I’m allowed to blame myself a little.”

“Oh, please. It was fun.”

“If you say so.”

“It was! Think of it as… an exclusive look into London at night. Something like that.”

“That’s a fancy way of saying ‘Phil nearly got us caught by the police for being in a park after hours’.”

Dan threw a pillow at Phil, rolling his eyes. “Stop being dramatic.”

Phil caught the pillow with ease. “I’m not being dramatic. I’m being rational.”

“You so are. I never knew grumpy Phil was such a drama queen.”

“How am I being grumpy?” Phil frowned.

“You said you get grumpy when you’re tired. Last night must have been rough. On the floor, and all.”

It took him an almost comical amount of time to realise what Dan was implying. He felt heat rising up his cheeks. How was he supposed to tell him they’d been spooning all night? And that he _enjoyed_ it?

“Well, my sincerest apologies,” he replied, choosing to ignore Dan’s assumption in the hope that he wouldn’t bring it up again. “I’ll try to be less grumpy from now on.”

“Good. Wouldn’t want you grumpy for a certain thing that’s happening later.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Phil said, feigning confusion. “I’ll be fine by then. Trust me. Right now, I could use a coffee.”

“Do they have room service here?”

“You bet your ass they do.”

In what turned out to be a happy coincidence, they both ended up ordering bowls of cereal for breakfast, with Phil opting for yet another bowl of coco pops and Dan choosing some shreddies. When the order came, he gratefully accepted it and took a warm sip of coffee, feeling the caffeine goodness wake him up.

To go with his shreddies, Dan had requested chamomile tea, which perfumed the air with its distinctive smell. Personally, Phil thought tea tasted like flavoured hot water, but the image of Dan cradling a mug in his hands while sitting cross-legged on the bed made him forget that.

Breakfast was a relatively quiet affair, with the only noises being the occasional clink of a spoon against a bowl and the quiet munching of the cereal. Dan's eyes seemed glued to the window as he sat, drinking in the morning sun. After they’d both finished, he turned to Phil and spoke.

“What time does the party start?”

“It officially starts at 8, but I’m sure Peej wouldn’t mind if we went over earlier. Why?”

“Oh, it’s just – the shirt I was going to wear tonight is back at my place and…”

“And?”

“…I was wondering if you wanted to come with me? It’s a bit of a mess, but it could be fun. I don’t know.”

A smile lit up his face. “Sure.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! What did you expect me to do? Turn down the offer immediately?”

“Shut up.”

Phil couldn’t remember the last time he’d been quite as nervous as he was, sitting in a taxi with Dan, on their way to his apartment. To stop his hands from shaking, he’d been repeatedly buttoning and unbuttoning the shirt he’d brought with him.

He knew he shouldn’t be nervous, but he was. Seeing where someone lived and where they spent the majority of their private life opened up another layer of intimacy, one that he wasn’t used to opening. Hell, the furthest he’d gotten with anyone was messaging guys half-drunk on Grindr.

“This is it,” Dan said, as the taxi pulled onto the curb.

Dan’s apartment was part of a complex, with a not-too-fancy elevator which took them up to the 6th floor. The walls of the corridor were clinically white and his shoes squeaked on the tiled floor, but he ignored that and tried to calm himself as Dan unlocked the door.

What lay behind the door was the such a perfect blend of modern and sleek furniture, personal touches and large, airy spaces that Phil was nearly taken aback. There was a glass table, leather sofa, walls filled with art and hanging plants. He’d seen enough episodes of Homes Under the Hammer to know that places like this cost a small fortune.

“Hey MTV, welcome to my crib,” Dan laughed. “I might as well give you a tour, seeing as you’re here.”

“Go for it.”

Past the entrance was the main living and dining area, with two doors at either end leading off to the kitchen and Dan’s bedroom respectively. While the kitchen wasn’t massively exciting, Dan’s bedroom was. It was a spacious room, with monochrome bedding and a faux fur rug. ‘Classy’ was a word that sprung to mind.

“There isn’t really much to explain,” he said. “I sleep and eat and occasionally wallow in misery on that bed right there. When I’m not busy doing that on the bed, I’ll be doing it at that desk, or in the shower through there.”

“Riveting.”

Dan snorted. “You can get changed in there. And please, don’t come out when I’m half-naked. You scared the life out of me.”

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?” Phil sighed, padding into Dan’s bathroom.

Once the door was locked, he looked around, recognising a few of Dan’s toiletries as ones he’d used when he still had Dan’s suitcase. They were arranged neatly on a shelf by the shower, which was opposite a toilet and sink. Directly in front of him was a disconcertingly large mirror.

Reaching into his rucksack, he pulled out the shirt he’d brought with him and smiled as he remembered when he’d bought it. In the bathroom light, the white dots seemed to sparkle. It wasn’t the kind of shirt he normally wore, but he was pleasantly surprised at how well it suited him.

Checking his reflection one last time, he called to see if Dan was decent.

“Is it okay to come out?”

“Depends on your situation.”

“Sorry?”

“I said yes.”

The shirt Dan had bought looked even better on him now than it did then. The hints of pink made his cheeks look ever so slightly rosier.

“Should we head to PJ’s place, then?” Phil asked, tearing his eyes away from Dan.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Since Dan’s apartment was even further from PJ’s apartment than Phil’s hotel was, the journey was even longer. Combined with the London traffic, it left them with a lot of time on their hands, time in which Phil began to internally freak out about what would happen later.

If he got even slightly tipsy, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to control himself around Dan. At the same time, alcohol was the perfect cure for a tongue that couldn’t find the right words to say and a brain that screamed at the idea of social interaction. He was treading a very fine line.

To pass some time, he texted PJ.

_Dan and I are on our way_

_ok lover boy_

_Also_

_what_

_Don’t let me drink too much tonight_

_any particular reason for that_

_You already know the reason_

After just under an hour, they’d finally arrived. Phil led Dan up a couple of flights of stairs (PJ’s apartment complex wasn’t quite as refined as Dan’s) until they were waiting outside.

PJ opened the door with a wide smile and beckoned them inside. Dan seemed to appreciate the amount of video game memorabilia, as he raised his brows slightly. They flopped onto beanbags as PJ set up Mario Kart.

“Might as well get a few rounds in while we’re sober,” PJ mentioned. Phil rolled his eyes, but grabbed a remote and handed one to Dan.

As it turned out, Dan was an experienced player, putting both Phil and PJ to shame. They played a solid 20 races, and he came first in all of them with ease. Phil had the sudden thought that playing it drunk with Dan would be interesting.

When they were getting bored of Mario Kart, PJ set them to work making his apartment look presentable. Dan offered to arrange everything to look ‘aesthetically pleasing’, while Phil took a bunch of miscellaneous crap and shoved it into cupboards.

After they’d finished, it looked significantly cleaner. During that time, PJ had set out a ridiculous amount of alcohol (with a secret stash in his microwave, of all places) and some snacks. While they waited for guests to arrive, Phil absentmindedly crunched on some Doritos.

A little while later, the party started. Ever so often, a new person would ring the door. PJ would answer it, greet them and direct them to where Dan and Phil were stood. Depending on who the person was, Phil would then either introduce himself and Dan or hug them.

The next guest who came through the door was slightly different. As soon as Phil saw him, he gasped and ran over to hug him.

“Chris! Hi!”

“Phil!” Chris laughed. “Mate, it’s been fucking ages. How’ve you been?”

“Not too bad, I guess,” he replied, his mind wandering to Dan. “I have some funny stories to tell. How’s life as an actor?”

“Not too shabby. I got asked to be on a TV show which I’m pretty pumped for.”

“You’re going to be on TV?”

“Hell yeah I am! It’s a comedy panel show. They don’t know what they have coming.”

“That’s so cool. I’m happy for you.”

“I’m happy for me, too!”

“As wonderful as this reunion is,” PJ interjected, “I have an entire apartment. The kitchen’s a little emptier if you want to catch up.”

Muttering something under his breath, Chris led the way to PJ’s kitchen with Phil (and a slightly lost looking Dan) trailing behind. He promptly opened a can of beer, took a swig and continued talking as if nothing had happened.

“Have to pay the rent somehow.”

Phil chuckled. “Still. This could be a turning point in your career, or something. Chris Kendall could become a household name.”

“Hardly,” Chris replied. “Anyway, enough about me. What’s been happening in the wonderful world of Phil Lester?”

“I’ve just been travelling around, you know.”

“Still at the journalism?”

“You bet. I’m due to travel to Paris in a couple of weeks to finish a spread I’m doing. Other than that, things have been… interesting.”

“Do tell,” Chris pried.

“It’s a long story, involving this guy beside me,” Phil gestured to Dan, who smiled awkwardly. Chris squealed and gave him a hug, which Dan accepted as politely as he could. Phil winced. Chris could be forward when he wanted to.

“Are you two…?” he asked, a wicked smile on his face.

Phil nearly choked on air. “No! No, no we’re not. Just friends. But we did accidentally swap suitcases.”

It was Chris’ turn to choke. “Say that again?”

“Long story.”

“I’m all ears.”

“We were both on the same flight back from Barcelona and we took each other’s suitcases by mistake. Somewhere along the way we became friends, and here we are.”

“What happened when you found out?” Chris asked, chuckling.

“My heart stopped."

"No shit."

"He had a phone number on the tag, though, so I called him. Then we met up and swapped the stuff back.”

“We hung out a bit, too,” Dan added. “Had to flee a park last night.”

“Flee a park?”

“I may or may not have had a 6 hour nap.”

“You absolute knob. 6 hours isn’t even a nap. That’s a solid night’s sleep, for fuck’s sake.”

“Give me a break!”

“It honestly wasn’t that bad,” Dan mentioned. “If anything, it was amusing.”

“This is so wild,” Chris said. “I’m not even tipsy yet.”

“I’m still sober,” Phil replied.

“A problem easily solved, my friend,” Chris replied, handing him a can of beer. “The night is still young. I think PJ mentioned karaoke, and I don’t know about you, but I’m more than down for that.”

“I can rap a mean verse or two of Nicki,” Dan hummed, opening a can for himself.

“That’s worth watching. Let’s go.”

They made their way through small groups of people to the living room, where PJ had set up some kind of karaoke game with two microphones.

“Want to have a go?” Dan asked, picking up a microphone.

“Might as well.”

As they flicked through the song choices, none of them particularly stood out. They were either too old, too obscure or just songs that neither of them fancied singing. Towards the end, however, was a song that caught Phil’s attention.

“Dan?”

“Hm?”

“How about Chandelier?”

“Really?” Dan deadpanned.

“It’ll be fun! Quit complaining.”

“I’m not complaining,” he retorted. “Don’t come back to me when your eardrums are shattered.”

When they got to the chorus of the song, Phil saw Dan had a point. He was singing so loudly and tunelessly that he couldn’t hear himself think, let alone how Dan was doing. Chris, at that point, seemed tipsy enough that he didn’t really care what he heard.

“ _Oh_ , _I’m just holding on for tonight,_ ” he screamed, trying to sustain the note as the song ended. The few people watching them cheered as they finished, and he mockingly took a bow.

“Not too bad,” Dan said. “I saw another song I wanted to try, though. No peeking.”

“Fine,” Phil grumbled, closing his eyes.

When the all-too-familiar violin at the beginning of the song started playing, he laughed and opened his eyes.

“Toxic? Really?”

“It’s a classic,” Dan retorted.

As the song went along, Phil realised just how suggestive the lyrics were and silently wondered if Dan was trying to say something to him. He knew for a fact that he was ‘slipping under,’ but was Dan too? Was there a slim chance that they felt the same way about each other?

When the song finally finished with a violin fading out, the tension in the air was palpable. Dan, with a pointed look in Phil’s direction, dropped the microphone and left the room. He nearly passed out there and then.

“I hate to intrude,” Chris murmured, “but it appears as if he wants you to follow him.”

Wordlessly, Phil nodded, making his way through hordes of people and out of the living room. When he looked, Dan wasn’t in the kitchen. Frowning, he went to find PJ.

“Peej?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you seen Dan?”

“I think he went to the bathroom.”

“Oh.”

Phil rushed to the bathroom and knocked the door. Dan swung the door open, pulled him inside by the collar of his shirt and slammed the door shut, leaving the two of them alone in PJ’s (conveniently) cramped bathroom. It felt like all the air had been knocked out of his lungs.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all evening,” Dan positively growled, before his lips slammed into Phil’s.

Phil felt lightheaded. He was really kissing Dan. This wasn’t a dream, or a fantasy. It was real and Dan was real and _god_ , he was all kinds of perfect. His lips were tender yet urgent, filled with a kind of longing Phil could only reciprocate. Soon enough, his hands were cupping Dan’s face and weaving through his hair, his mind clouded over with the fact that Dan was a real human being with real feelings for him.

Dan pulled away all too soon, pressing their foreheads together and pecking Phil’s lips. His smile was so deep that his dimple popped out, and it took everything Phil had in him not to melt.

“I… we… holy shit,” he whispered, his eyes hopelessly drawn to Dan’s.

“We did,” Dan laughed.

“I didn’t realise you felt the same,” Phil confessed. “I thought it was just me being lonely and pinning all my hopes on a stranger.”

“I thought I made it pretty bloody obvious,” Dan replied. “Why’d you think I offered to show you around London in the first place?”

“Because you’re a good person who wants others to enjoy the wonderful city that London is?”

Dan rolled his eyes. “Because I had a crush on you. God knows how short a time we’ve know each other. It’s all been so intense.”

“Sometimes intense is good.”

Dan pressed his lips to Phil’s in a final, soft kiss. “We should take it slow, though. It’s better not to rush into things.”

“Completely. I don’t mind waiting.”

“I don’t either.”

“Right now, we should enjoy the rest of tonight and talk about this tomorrow.”

“Good idea.”

Being as surreptitious as they could, Dan unlocked the door and they snuck back into the living room, joining in the party. The music was loud and made his ears throb, but he couldn’t care less. In that moment, he was content with being wild, living life as it came.

Later that night, when the music had died down, Phil found himself crashed out beside Dan. Despite the questioning looks from both Chris and PJ, he nestled his head against Dan’s and let sleep overcome him, safe in the knowledge that Dan felt the same way and everything was blissful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading, ily and i'll be back on sunday :')


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! sorry i'm so terrible at sticking to a regular update schedule :( these past couple of chapters have been difficult to write but i now have a pretty solid idea of where this is going to go so !!
> 
> just a lil warning that there are some mentions of food towards the beginning of the chapter! it isn't much, but you can never be too sure <3

13 hours later, the butterflies still hadn’t left Phil’s stomach. Ever since he’d kissed Dan under the dimmed lights of PJ’s bathroom, it was like they’d taken permanent residence there. It was strange, but a different kind of strange – a happy one.

Sitting up, he groaned and stretched out. He’d passed out on PJ’s floor, which had probably done irreversible damage to his back, but he didn’t mind. To his left, a certain someone was snoring softly.

Although he was tempted to gently roll Dan over, to be in his arms, he refrained, remembering what he’d said the day before. Their feelings were clear, but they needed the space to adjust to each other.

The smell of coffee filled his nostrils. He followed the scent to the kitchen, where PJ and a very hungover Chris were sitting, talking quietly among themselves. When he saw Phil, PJ’s eyes lit up.

“What happened last night?” PJ asked, a smile creeping up his lips.

“Can’t remember a thing,” Chris replied, his voice croaky. When he saw that PJ’s attention was currently fixed on Phil, his mouth formed a silent ‘o’. “Phil probably does, though.”

Phil felt his neck prickle with heat. “Maybe.”

“You went into the bathroom with Dan,” PJ deadpanned. “Something went down.”

“I think you mean something went up,” Chris added. PJ snickered.

The heat spread from his neck to his face. “I said maybe.”

“Someone’s being cryptic,” PJ huffed.

“I’m not being cryptic,” Phil defended himself. “I just… don’t know what to make of the situation yet.”

“In a good way?” Chris asked.

“Obviously.”

Phil’s answer seemed to perk them up, especially PJ. As someone who’d known Phil for a considerable amount of time, he was happy to see him content with where he was, even if he’d only known Dan for just over a week.

At the same time, PJ could almost sense Phil’s trepidation. He knew Phil was now at an exciting point in his life, but with any highs came lows. There would always be voices echoing around his mind, convincing him it was too good to be true, that things would eventually crumble. It was sad to see such meaningless thoughts spiral so quickly.

Moments later, a half-asleep Dan entered the kitchen, his hair rumpled and eyelids droopy.

“Morning,” he said, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to tame it.

Phil whirled around, frightened Dan had overheard their conversation. Even though Dan had been the one to initiate the kiss, he still didn’t know what was going to happen. For all he knew, it could have been a drunken mistake.

When Dan flashed a smile in his direction, his eyes were filled with such mirth that his worries slowly dissipated. They were a calming shade of brown, and held his own in an electrifyingly tender gaze.

“Morning, Dan,” PJ replied, oddly polite. “Fancy some breakfast?”

“Please.”

PJ stood up and began to rummage through his fridge. Phil slumped into PJ’s seat, his head beginning to throb. He wasn’t hungover, but his memories of the night before were hazy enough for him to know he’d been drinking.

Dan awkwardly pulled out the chair next to Phil and sat down, glancing over at Chris. For someone who normally held alcohol well, he’d woken up in a pretty rough state.

When PJ finally emerged from the fridge, brandishing a carton of eggs and a packet of bacon, Phil’s stomach rumbled.

“This okay?”

“Looks good to me,” Phil responded. “I can do the bacon if you do the eggs.”

“Phil, mate,” PJ chuckled, “as lovely as the offer is, I don’t know if I can trust you with a frying pan.”

“Hey!” he protested. “I may not be able to flip pancakes, but I’m a pro when it comes to cooking bacon. Trust me.”

PJ made a noncommittal noise, handing Phil the bacon packet before getting to work on the eggs. Once a couple of pans were heating up on PJ’s stove, Phil laid each rasher of bacon as carefully as he could and waited for them to cook. As soon as they came in contact with the heat, they began sizzling.

Peering over his shoulder, Phil saw Dan looking a little lost and beckoned him over. Frowning, Dan stood up and made his way to where Phil was stood.

“What’s up?”

“Honestly? Nothing. You just looked like you could use something to keep you occupied.”

Dan snorted, glancing over what Phil had done. Since it was time for him to turn the bacon, he’d grabbed some tongs. Though Dan thought he could faintly smell something burning, he avoided saying anything.

When Phil had turned the first rasher over, it looked like what could only be described as a burnt mess. Panicking, he ripped the pan off the stove and set it aside, exhaling shakily. Dan jumped out of Phil’s way, clamping his mouth shut. Phil was adorably bad at cooking, but laughing at his attempts would only knock his confidence.

Staring at the ruined bacon, PJ rolled his eyes.

“Trust you to burn the bacon,” he murmured. “It isn’t even edible.”

“Technically, it still is,” Phil retorted.

“It’s half raw and half burnt,” PJ fired back. “Seeing as one side could give me food poisoning and the other increases my risk of getting cancer, I think I’m good.”

“You have a point.”

“There’s another packet in the fridge,” he mentioned. “Hey, Dan, can you cook?”

“Not really.”

“Perfect. Make sure the pan’s cold when you put the bacon in or it’ll burn.”

“The pan’s supposed to be cold?” Phil asked, already realising where he’d went wrong.

“Yes. You’re such a knob.”

“I can do better!”

“Sure. There’s paracetamol in that cupboard up there, by the way.”

Whether the change in conversation was intentional or not, Phil was grateful for it.

“Thank god. My head’s killing me.”

“I figured.”

When the paracetamol had been retrieved and Phil had taken some, he sat back down and watched as Dan and PJ prepared breakfast. Dan was instantly better at cooking the bacon than Phil (though the boundary had been set low), and when a plate loaded with it was set on the table, he hungrily tucked in.

The collective exhaustion was palpable, as few words were spoken. It was a calming contrast to the rowdiness of the night before, and something Phil appreciated as he made his way through several rashers of bacon and a steaming plate of scrambled eggs.

With his stomach (and head) feeling better, he made his way back to PJ’s living room and flopped onto a beanbag. Shortly afterwards, Dan joined him.

They sat for a few moments, unsure of the right words to say. Phil’s mind was still filled with faded music, Dan’s warm lips on his, the feel of his hair as he ran his fingers through it. Part of him hoped Dan was thinking about it too.

“So…” he began, trailing off. “Breakfast was good.”

“At least PJ had a second packet of bacon,” Dan chuckled in reply. “You cremated the first lot.”

“How was I supposed to know the pan’s meant to be cold?” Phil protested. “I’m incompetent.”

“You’re not incompetent,” Dan murmured. “What you lack in cooking ability you make up for in other areas.”

Phil quirked a brow. “I do?”

“You do. But breakfast was good, though.”

“Don’t try to change the subject. What do you mean by ‘other areas’?”

“I think you know what I mean,” Dan hummed, “but this isn’t the best place to talk about it. I don’t know if you have stuff planned with PJ and Chris, or anything, but. Yeah.”

“I don’t.”

“Good. We could go back to my place, then.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

-

The taxi to Dan’s apartment was filled with a strange tension that Phil had never felt before. There was a seat between them, and Dan was gazing out at the overcast sky, the reflection making his eyes look glassy.

Conveniently, Chris and PJ had decided to have a movie marathon at Chris’ apartment. Phil could tell they’d overheard his and Dan’s conversation and wanted to leave them alone, something he was grateful for. Ever since he’d known about Dan, PJ had referred to Phil as ‘lover boy’. If there was an award for being supportive, PJ would win in a heartbeat.

As they drove through London, Phil remembered places they’d been together and smiled. The taxi passed by his hotel, where they’d shared a bed for the first time, along the Thames, where they’d first met in Café au Lait, and St James’ Park, the first park they’d visited together.

Looking back, Phil realised how many first times there had been. When the taxi was pulling up to the curb, he realised something else; Dan wasn’t the first person he’d had feelings for, but he hoped he was the last.

After less than 12 hours, Phil was back in Dan’s apartment, still mesmerised at how beautiful it was. Dan wandered to the kitchen to get drinks, leaving Phil stranded in the living room. Sitting down on the leather sofa, he marvelled at the dining table, which was sleek and well looked after, and a massive painting on the opposite wall.

“Ribena okay?” Dan asked, setting two glasses down on the coffee table.

Nodding, Phil picked up a glass and took a sip. When Dan sat down next to him, he knew what was about to happen. His brain suddenly seemed disconnected from his mouth, his thoughts a jumbled mess of maybes and what ifs.

“Nice art,” he began, trying to stay calm.

“You like it?” Dan replied conversationally. “It’s a print of a Jackson Pollock. _Number 14: Grey_. I’ve been a fan of his work for a while.”

“I didn’t know you were a fan.”

“It’s part of my job.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a curator.”

For someone who he had feelings for, Phil knew strikingly little about Dan, something he was convinced to change.

“Are they the ones who put together exhibitions for museums?” he asked, his curiosity piquing. The concept of Dan being an art connoisseur was secretly attractive.

“Basically. I’m working on an exhibition to do with Abstract Expressionism, hence the Pollock.”

“That sounds cool. I thought you just liked having a lot of paintings,” Phil confessed, drinking some Ribena to hide his face.

“Don’t get me wrong, I do,” Dan said, “it’s just tiring, y’know? Having to be interested in art all the time. I’ve been working on this exhibition for nearly a year now. I was told to take time off to relax, but I ended up going to Barcelona to visit art museums there.”

“You said you were just visiting.”

“That’s what I was supposed to do,” Dan responded, glancing over at Phil. “Sometimes I just can’t help seeing the beauty in things.”

Phil blushed. “Screw you.”

“Sorry?”

“You don’t just get to say that,” he mumbled. “Especially the way things are right now.”

Dan sighed. “Sooner or later we’re going to have to talk about that.”

“Now’s as good a time as any.”

“What’s there to discuss, though?” Dan wondered out loud. “I know how I feel, and you know how you feel. It’s better to not rush anything, or feel pressured to shove a label on something too prematurely.”

“You’re right,” Phil hummed in agreement. “Hell, I didn’t even know you were into guys like that.”

“Sorry for not looking stereotypically homosexual enough,” Dan grinned. “I tend to be guarded about that kind of stuff, anyway. I was worried I was too forward in offering to show you around London.”

“Nobody’s ever gone out of their way to do something like that for me before. I didn’t know if you were being serious.”

“Of course I was being serious. Everything I’ve done with you so far has been because I wanted to do it.”

“You mean you weren’t testing what kind of lip balm I use?” Phil gasped, feigning shock. “I’m offended.”

Dan lightly slapped Phil’s shoulder. “You’re insufferable. I don’t know how I put up with you.”

Then Dan was leaning over and kissing him, and it felt like the first time all over again. Dan’s lips were soft and gentle, yet feverishly urgent. His hands cupped Phil’s cheeks, locking him in an embrace.

All of a sudden, Dan broke off the kiss and straddled Phil. His legs were on either side of Phil’s thighs, and his crotch was so dangerously close to Phil’s that he couldn’t breathe. They were treading a very fine line, one which only had two outcomes.

Winding his arms around Dan, he pulled him down and brought their lips back together. In a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss, as his fingers were toying with the hair at the nape of Dan’s neck, Dan sucked on his bottom lip. A moan escaped his mouth, one the likes of which he’d only heard in his dreams.

His lips parted to allow Dan to slide his tongue in, which he did with ease. Every part of him tingled with anticipation. A small voice in his head reminded him not to go too far, but he pushed it aside. He could tell when too far was too far.

For what seemed like a sweet eternity, they lazily made out on Dan’s sofa, basking in each other’s company and the fulfilment that came with being wanted. When Dan finally rolled off Phil, his lips were swollen and his cheeks glowed with some indiscernible aura.

“Correction: I do know how I put up with you,” he sighed, looking at his untouched glass of Ribena. “You’re pretty damn good.”

“Same goes to you.”

The conversation quickly came to a halt. Phil brought his fingers up to his own lips and found them just as swollen as Dan’s. He laughed quietly to himself. They’d clearly been at it quite hard.

As the silence stretched on uncertainly, more and more questions buzzed in Phil’s head. In a small surge of courage, he opened his mouth to speak.

“Dan?”

“Hm?”

“What happens now?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… I know we both know how we feel, but I have to leave for Paris in just over a week. I hate to be all negative, but I just – I don’t know what’ll happen.”

Dan paused. “We still have all of this week. Let’s make the most of it.”

Phil breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay.”

“Plus my feelings won’t change with you being in a different country,” he added, his thumb tracing small circles on Phil’s hand. “You’re a couple of hours away, for God’s sake. We can call each other, or something.”

“That’s good. What do you define as ‘making the most of it’?”

“You know. Doing fun things each day, going to parties, trying new things. Ultimately, it’s your experience of London, so do what you want.”

“I’m sure PJ wouldn’t mind hosting another party,” Phil suggested. “There could be a final party on Saturday. A send-off, if you will.”

Dan grimaced. “I wish I could do Saturday.”

Phil’s face fell. “You’re busy?”

“I have a work party that night. It’s at some stupidly grand hotel. I’d bring you if I could, but I think it’s too late to bring a plus one.”

“I could just sneak in,” he chuckled.

“Or I could sneak out,” Dan groaned. “I fucking hate work parties.”

“They’re pretty grim,” Phil agreed.

“Try making small talk with a bunch of pretentious pricks over the cultural relevance of the Pre-Raphaelites. Everyone’s talking over each other, then someone says something controversial and there’s a fight. It’s a hot mess.”

“Alright then. You can sneak out. But before that.”

“Before the party, you mean? I don’t know. You’re welcome here whenever. We could play video games, or watch boxsets. Anything, really.”

“That sounds fun.”

“At the same time, it’s important to do stuff with PJ as well. Or Chris. I don’t know. My point is, they’re your friends. You should spend time with them.”

“I guess,” Phil replied. “Distance makes the heart grow fonder, and all.”

Dan pecked Phil’s lips. “Not that I’m complaining, but you’ve been spending far too much time with me. You should go and have fun with them this evening.”

Phil grumbled. “Fine. But we’re doing something tomorrow.”

“Text me.”

“I will,” Phil reassured him. “Also…”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad we had this talk.”

“I am too.”

-

When Phil was back in his hotel room, he was at a loss of what to do. Heeding Dan’s advice, he tried to keep him out of his mind and focus on PJ.

Luckily, PJ picked up after a few rings.

“What’s up, lover boy?”

Phil coughed slightly. No matter how many times PJ called him that, it still caught him off guard.

“Hey Peej,” he chuckled. “How was the movie marathon with Chris?”

“Pretty fun. We ate stupid amounts of popcorn, though. How about you?”

“Oh, it was good.”

“What’d you do?”

“We talked,” Phil began thoughtfully, leaning back against the headboard. “And did some other stuff, but we mainly talked.”

“Hold up,” PJ interrupted. “What ‘other stuff’?”

“You can probably guess,” Phil murmured, feeling his cheeks grow hot.

“I’m suddenly incapable of guessing. Spell it out for me.”

“Christ, Peej. We made out.”

The noise that came from the other end of the phone was so loud that Phil ended up putting it down. When PJ had suitably recovered enough to form coherent sentences, he began bombarding Phil with questions.

“He feels the same way? Why didn’t you tell me? How was it? Was it your first time with him? Is he a good kisser?”

“Slow down,” Phil laughed. “One at a time. To put it simply: yes, he feels the same way and no, it wasn’t my first time with him.”

“So that’s what you did in the bathroom,” PJ said. “And that’s why you slept so close together last night.”

“Yeah,” Phil mumbled, still embarrassed. “I really like him, Peej. It’s been such a short amount of time. What if I’m rushing into things?”

“How are you rushing? If you both feel the same and both want the same things, that isn’t rushing. It’s confirming what you both secretly think.”

“No, I get that, I really do, but I leave for Paris soon. What if…” he trailed off.

“What if…?”

“What if I come back and he’s already moved onto someone else?”

Faint laughter echoed down the phone.

“You honestly think he’ll move on that quickly? Give the guy a chance. It’s not like you’re moving halfway across the world.”

“I know, it’s just – he’s so perfect. I don’t know what I did to deserve him.”

“And he feels the same way. If it bothers you that much, I’d make a move before you leave for Paris.”

“Isn’t that too soon?”

“When the person’s right, there’s no such thing as ‘too soon’.”

“That’s profound,” Phil chuckled. “I don’t know when or where, though.”

“Give it a few days and see how you feel,” PJ suggested. “Friday or Saturday, at the least.”

“Dan has a party on Saturday, come to think of it. I could text him to come outside and ask him then.”

“Yes! Shit, Phil. That’s so cute.”

“Who knew I could be so sappy?”

“It’s not sappy,” PJ chastised him. “It’s goddamn adorable and I’m so happy you and Dan have each other. You deserve it.”

“Now you’re being sappy,” Phil said. “It’s contagious.”

“Shut up,” PJ retorted. “We have to meet up before the party. Chris and I can help you get ready, and stuff. Be your wingmen.”

“Fine,” Phil gave in. “This is so extra. He could say no.”

“But he won’t. Trust me.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am sure! Listen, Chris and I are kind of still in the middle of a movie marathon, so-”

“What? You mean you paused a movie to listen to my relationship woes?”

“That’s what friends are for,” PJ replied. Phil could tell from the tone of his voice that he was grinning.

“Thanks, Peej. I won’t keep you any longer.”

“You’re welcome! Talk soon.”

When the line went dead, Phil felt nerves swirl in his stomach. In 6 days’ time, he’d ask Dan a question he’d never asked any guy before, and nothing he did could mentally prepare him for that.

After calming himself down, he tried to think rationally. In the end, he figured asking Dan and getting rejected was better than never asking him at all. Though Dan could say no just as easily as he could say yes, part of him knew what his answer would be. That thought alone was enough to get his heart hammering out of his chest.

As Phil fell asleep, his last waking thought was _don’t let him slip through your fingers_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading! please tell me what you think <3
> 
> (also enjoy the softness while it lasts. this is a Warning. i'm evil)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! i always forget how to write these lmao but i hope u enjoy !! <3
> 
> (also remember the notes at the end of the last chapter? don't say i didn't warn you)

A week passed all too soon.

If anything, Phil had grown even closer to Dan. They’d visited museums, parks, art galleries (Dan insisted) and even Madame Tussaud’s. His camera roll was steadily growing with pictures of Dan, clichéd touristy photos of London and some selfies he’d taken with wax figures.

Although gazing at art wasn’t something he particularly enjoyed, Dan made it seem like the most exciting thing ever. Every painting or sculpture they stopped at had a story, with each story interwoven into the rich tapestry that was art history. Phil had almost forgotten how infectious Dan was to listen to; he had a genuine passion for art, which was tangible from the way his eyes lit up to how his hand gestures were more defined.

The time they’d spent together was so good that Phil found himself utterly content. Whenever they were around each other, it was easy and carefree. He never had to fake his personality, or feel like he had to change himself for Dan to like him. For someone who used to worry about being accepted, he’d come a long way.

Every day, Phil couldn’t quite believe how they’d slotted so perfectly into each other’s lives, how lucky he was to have him. Now that they’d established where they stood with each other, it was only a matter of letting things blossom.

Despite all of this, there was one doubt he couldn’t quite shake: what if it was too soon to make it official? After asking PJ and Chris for the umpteenth time, his only reply was an eye roll and a head shake.

“Think about it,” PJ reassured him. “The worst thing that can happen is he says he isn’t ready.”

Phil had decided to take on PJ’s suggestion and was currently lying on his bed, watching as the ceiling blurred into one incoherent blob in front of him. To avoid suspicion from Dan, he’d texted him saying he’d be spending the day with PJ.

_I’m at PJ’s today. Good luck with the party_

_luck? i’m gonna need a miracle_

_You’ll be fine_

_:(_

_Turn that frown upside down_

_make me_

(Smiling quietly to himself, Phil knew just how he was going to turn Dan’s frown into a smile.)

“I guess,” he mumbled, tugging at his sleeves.

“You worry too much,” Chris added, his eyes softening. “D’you want to go over the plan again?”

To save himself from screwing up, Phil had formulated a plan (with PJ and Chris’ input): sneak into Dan’s party, pull him aside and pop the question. Because he was so paranoid about getting caught, he’d come up with a backup plan, which involved getting Dan out of the party to somewhere private. Both plans made him feel sick with nerves.

The emotions that lingered in his stomach fell somewhere between excited, terrified and determined; perhaps it was all three, perhaps it was none of them. He had no idea how he felt, but he knew what he wanted the outcome of all of this to be.

“Sure. Why not.”

PJ sighed knowingly. “You should know this off by heart now, we’ve been over it so many times. Okay. First step after you reach the hotel?”

“Latch onto passers-by and get into the party.”

“And?”

“Find Dan.”

“And?”

“Pull him aside.”

“And?” Chris prodded further.

“Ask him to be my – my, uh-”

“Go on.”

“My, uh, boyfriend.”

PJ clapped his hands together. “Perfect! It’ll be a piece of cake. Trust me.”

“If you say so.”

“Less of the attitude,” Chris scolded him. “You need to get ready.”

“I have time,” Phil retorted. “The party doesn’t start for another 2 hours.”

“We’ve just spent an hour coming up with a plan of action,” PJ said. “Plus the taxi could be held up in traffic. You have less time than you think. Now, what’s the dress code?”

“Dress code?”

“Let’s go with business attire.”

Humming quietly to himself, PJ opened his wardrobe and rifled through his clothes until he found what he was looking for. Glancing over at Phil, he shrugged and pulled the hanger out.

“Try this,” he instructed.

Phil reluctantly took the hanger from PJ’s outstretched hand and ambled to the bathroom to try it on. It was the same bathroom that he’d kissed Dan in for the first time, and the familiarity of it eased his nerves ever so slightly.

To his surprise, the suit PJ was letting him borrow fit him quite well. It was a sleek dark blue, with too-short trouser legs and slightly mismatched buttons. It wasn't his style at all, but it struck him as the kind of suit an artistic person would wear.

When he finally gained the courage to leave the bathroom, he opened the door slowly and tried to gauge PJ’s and Chris’ reactions. The look on PJ’s face said it all.

“Holy shit.”

“Dan doesn’t know what he has coming,” Chris murmured.

“You two are dramatic,” Phil commented, blushing lightly.

“It looks better on you than it does on me,” PJ said, his eyes still wide. “I’m being serious.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Chris asked. Two pairs of eyes snapped in his direction. “A tie.”

“Excellent point, Mr Kendall. What kind of colour d’you fancy?”

Phil paused. “Maybe a light grey? Or silver. I don’t know. I’m not good at this.”

PJ had already begun sifting through a drawer which contained his ties. After selecting three, he threw them at Phil. All three of them were grey, with one patterned with silver stripes and the other two plain.

“I like this one,” he eventually said, holding the second one up. It was one of the plain ones, as he figured having a shiny suit with a shiny tie would be too much. He wanted to avoid drawing unnecessary attention to himself.

“Let me tie it for you,” PJ replied.

“I know how to tie a tie.”

“Yeah. Badly.”

Once PJ had tied the tie, he stepped back and admired his handiwork. He grinned.

“That’s the outfit sorted.” Chris nodded silently in agreement.

“What now?” Phil asked.

“Have you showered today?”

“I showered this morning.”

“Shower again. And scrub everywhere.”

Following PJ’s orders, Phil begrudgingly went to take a shower. To make sure he smelt good for later on, he scrubbed everywhere with the shower gel PJ used. Whatever the scent was, it smelled amazing, and he stepped out of the shower feeling oddly prepared.

After showering, Phil dried his hair, got changed into his suit and went to join PJ and Chris in the living room. It was the last evening he’d get to spend with the two of them for a while, and he felt a strange pang in his stomach at that thought.

He’d been so caught up in his developing relationship with Dan that he feared he’d neglected his friends. Soon enough, he’d be working in Paris, then going home to Manchester. The drunken nights of Mario Kart would get replaced with Skype calls once again, slurred words replaced with pixels on a screen.

Glancing at the clock, he saw he had half an hour until his taxi was expected to arrive. More and more nerves flooded his veins and made his toes curl.

“Phil?”

“Hm?”

“You alright? You seem distracted.”

“Oh, no, I’m fine. Just preoccupied.”

Chris smiled knowingly. “I’m sure the party will be fine. You’ve got this.”

“I just…”

“If you say one more thing about ‘rushing’, I swear I’ll throttle you,” PJ warned.

“It’s not about that, actually.”

“What’s it about, then?”

“The timing.”

The two frowned, but remained silent.

“What if I enter the hotel at the same time as him? What if he sees me too early and everything’s ruined?”

“You really do worry about everything. You’ll be fine.”

“It’s a valid cause for concern,” he protested, feeling his leg jump up and down.

“Just make sure you blend in,” Chris advised, playing with a can of beer. “Even if he does see you, it isn’t the end of the world. Tell him you came to surprise him.”

“Exactly,” PJ replied. “Then have a fun evening and ask him later.”

“But-”

“We’ve already been over what to do if he says no.”

Phil grumbled. “Fine.”

“Good! Time to leave.”

“Sorry?”

“Not yet,” Chris reassured him. “You still have about 5 minutes.”

Time had flown by. Phil could feel his heart suddenly throbbing in his neck. 5 minutes? He still had so much to do! He had to get shoes on, make sure he smelt good, spray himself with deodorant to prevent himself from being a sweaty mess later, adjust his hair-

“Phil. You’re okay. What do you need?” PJ asked, his voice soothing and sympathetic.

“I, uh, I need deodorant. And shoes. Oh, and aftershave.”

“I have deodorant and aftershave,” he replied, rushing to his bathroom. Chris followed PJ, leaving Phil alone with his annoyingly pessimistic thoughts.

He paced up and down the room a few times before PJ and Chris returned, one brandishing two bottles and the other holding up a pair of smart-looking shoes.

When he was finally prepared (both physically and mentally) to leave, with PJ’s and Chris’ blessings he made his way out of PJ’s apartment, down the stairs and out to where a taxi was waiting for him. Climbing in, he exhaled slowly. This was it.

-

When Dan had said the hotel was ‘stupidly grand’, he wasn’t kidding. It had taken a bit of digging (with some confusion on Dan’s part), but he’d figured out the party was being held at The Dorchester, one of the most prestigious hotels in London.

Just from googling it, Phil could tell the selected venue was stunning: there was a terrace which overlooked the Thames, fountains adorned with cherubs and stupidly intricate trellises bursting with flowers. It was the kind of location where he reckoned an art lover would swoon.

After stepping out of the taxi, he nervously brushed off his suit, paid for the fare and stared up at the looming building in front of him. A faint glow emanated from some of the rooms, dispelling light into the seemingly perpetual darkness. If it was even possible, it radiated wealth. He gulped.

Spotting a group of people making their way inside, he took a deep breath and followed them. His mind was frantic with the realisation that he was so close yet so far and _oh god this is really happening what do I do what do I do._

As he made his way inside, the luxury only increased. Miles of squeaky marble flooring stretched out before him, and through a massive set of double doors lay several small seating areas, complete with plush sofas and perfectly manicured plants.

The group of people he was following made their way to reception, and he hovered a comfortable distance away from them. One woman, who seemed fairly self-assured, spoke up.

“We’re here for the Tate cocktail party? At the Pavilion,” she explained.

Phil arched a brow. Dan was a curator for the Tate? Having a job like that carried some prestige with it.

The receptionist smiled politely in response. “The Pavilion and Terrace are on the eighth floor. The lifts are through those doors there and to your right. I hope you have a good evening.”

With rationality winning over instinct, he decided to approach the receptionist.

“Hello,” he began. The receptionist regarded him with the same insincere smile from before.

“Good evening, Sir. How can I help?”

“I’m here for the Tate cocktail party,” he replied, silently impressed with how smoothly the lie rolled off his tongue. “I was told it’s being held at the Pavilion?”

“That’s correct. The Pavilion and Terrace are on the eighth floor. The lifts are through those doors there and to your right. I hope you have a good evening.”

He flashed a smile of gratitude before making his way through the doors and to the lift. Even the lift was fancy, with polished buttons and an elaborate mirror.

During the time it took to reach the eighth floor, Phil adjusted his hair, smoothed out his suit and tried to breathe calmly. The experience he’d had so far was so out of his comfort zone that he wanted nothing more than to be back in his hotel room, watching mindless TV and making the most of the room service.

He immediately reprimanded himself. The only reason he even wanted to do this was for Dan. Closing his eyes, he tried to picture the look on Dan’s face when he saw him: how his eyes would catch the light, how his dimple would appear, how his smile would be exhilarating and breathless as he ran over to him.

Behind him, the lift doors shifted open. He froze. This was it.

From his limited knowledge of cocktail parties, he knew the key was to always have a drink in your hand and try to blend in. Unfortunately, his surroundings were a little distracting. The Pavilion was the grandest room he’d ever found himself standing in. He didn’t know if he even had the words to describe what he was seeing – it was a blur of silk drapes and ornate wall hangings and extravagant furnishings.

To one side, there was a table laid with cocktails. Looking at the various options, he stopped in front of one which looked fruity. The sign described it as ‘rum and fresh lime juice blended with a sinfully smooth strawberry purée’. Frowning, he picked up a glass and took a sip. He recognised it as a strawberry daiquiri, and it was surprisingly refreshing.

With step one complete, he set about mingling with guests who were actually supposed to be there. When he caught one woman’s eye, he smiled and walked over to her.

“Hello!” he said cheerily, extending his hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met before? I’m Phil. Phil Lester.”

“I don’t believe we have,” the woman replied, shaking his hand. “I’m Claire Stafford. I’m one of the curators at the Tate. And you are?”

Alarm bells went off in Phil’s mind. If Claire and Dan were both curators, it was likely that they knew each other. His small talk was only going to get him so far. Asking Claire if she knew Dan’s whereabouts seemed like a smart idea.

“Oh, I’m not based at the Tate,” he clarified. “I’m here with Dan as a plus-one.”

Claire frowned. “Dan Howell?”

Phil nodded.

“They let him bring a plus-one? Pardon my French but really? Sexist fuckers.”

Phil tried to stifle his laughter. “They didn’t let you bring one?”

“Apparently not. Something about the ‘intimacy of the venue’. My wife would’ve killed to see this.”

Looking around, Phil could only agree. “It is beautifully maintained.”

“Truly. Messel did such a wonderful job with it. The whole concept of it being based around Sleeping Beauty is remarkable.”

“I didn’t realise it was based around Sleeping Beauty,” he mused, trying his hardest to not let it slip that the conversation he was having was majorly out of his depth.

“It took me a while, too,” Claire said. “But then I looked closer and all the details fit together so perfectly. It’s so theatrical – the mirrored forest, the door handles, the light fixtures that are designed to look like Edwardian bird cages – gorgeous. I can’t put it into words.”

“Neither can I,” Phil sighed. He wasn’t lying. To be honest, he had no real idea what Claire was talking about, despite how enthusiastic she was about it.

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” she laughed, taking a small sip of her drink. “You said you weren’t based at the Tate?”

“No, gosh no. I’m a travel journalist, actually. I get to visit all corners of the globe and write about it.”

“That must be fun. What are you working on, then?”

“I’m doing a spread on affordable places to visit in Europe. I’ve been to Budapest, Amsterdam, Florence and Barcelona so far and I’m due to fly to Paris tomorrow.”

“How exciting!” Claire commented. “You’ll have to visit the Louvre. And the Orangerie. It has the most wonderful Monet works.”

“I’ll be sure to give it a visit,” he replied. “Listen, I hate to be a nuisance, but I don’t suppose you’ve seen Dan anywhere?”

Claire rolled her eyes. “He’s always off doing something. Bit of a wild card, that man. Crazily passionate about art, but a tad eccentric at times.”

“I think I’d better look for him. It was lovely talking to you, though. I learnt a lot.”

“I’m glad. Have fun looking for him.”

“I will,” Phil chuckled, before whirling around and wondering where to go next. Since he’d been relying on Claire to know where Dan was, he found himself slightly lost. Sighing, he downed his daiquiri in one go for liquid courage and approached a group of people. One man looked like he was slightly out of the circle, so Phil waved to get his attention.

“Excuse me, Sir?” he asked, his voice wavering slightly.

The man, who looked like he’d seen better days, regarded Phil curiously.

“Yes?”

“I hate to intrude, but I’m looking for Dan Howell? I haven’t seen him around here and he’s supposed to be at this party.”

“Dan Howell?” the man repeated, frowning. “I think he went onto the terrace. Might be worth looking out there for him if you haven’t.”

“Thank you. I will.”

Since he hadn’t seen Dan anywhere in the pavilion, the terrace was Phil’s last resort. Everything he’d done so far came down to this. Feeling his legs shake, he stepped outside and let his eyes adjust to the dim light.

People were congregating in small groups, chatting animatedly (probably to do with something art related, Phil thought) and sipping their cocktails. Some were sitting by the fountain, others staring out at the twinkling lights and gaping darkness of the London skyline.

None of them looked like Dan, and Phil felt his heart slowly sink. Glancing over, he saw the terrace wrapped around a corner. If Dan wasn’t out here, the only place he could be was there. With every step feeling almost torturous, but he made his way through hordes of people and around the corner.

At first, he couldn’t see anything, but when he saw two figures huddled close together, everything shattered.

He stopped. No. This couldn’t be happening.

With the absence of light, it was hard to tell, but he knew from Dan’s muffled moans that it was very much him, and he was very much kissing someone Phil had never seen before.

He felt rooted to the spot, frozen in a moment in time. It was just him and Dan, Dan who was all over a stranger and a stranger who was equally all over Dan. His throat went dry, a million thoughts whirling in his mind.

This couldn’t be happening. He refused to believe it was happening. Convinced it was all some twisted dream, he pinched himself through the sleeve of his suit. When all he got in reply was a sharp pain, his world crumbled around him.

This wasn’t a dream. This was real. Dan was really kissing someone else, and Phil had never felt so stupid, so betrayed in his entire life.

Then Dan’s eyes met his, and his lips were off the stranger’s in a heartbeat. Unable to look, Phil spun around, his body numb with shock. A sharp sound echoed in the darkness.

“Phil-”

His feet were running, as if on autopilot, off the terrace and through the pavilion and out the door. There were footsteps behind him, but he didn’t care, didn’t want to see who was chasing after him. He needed to get out, to run away and pretend the past 2 weeks of his life had never happened.

When people saw him hurrying, they jumped out of the way, clutching their glasses of stupidly expensive cocktails and looking at him with disdain. He thought he’d seen Claire, but he was moving so frantically he couldn’t tell.

Scrambling into the lift, he jammed the button for the ground floor so hard he feared it might break. In that time, Dan had caught up and was panting for breath. The tension between them was so thick and stifling Phil felt like he could reach out and touch it.

“Why did you come here?" he asked quietly. 

“I wanted to surprise you,” Phil replied bitterly. “Look how well that turned out.”

“Don't say that.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he murmured, the hurt evident in his voice.

“I swear it isn’t what it looks like-”

“I don’t give a fuck, Dan!” Phil snapped, slowly losing his mind. “I know what I saw! Are you just going to stand there and pretend you didn’t have your tongue down that guy’s throat?”

Dan grimaced. “It wasn’t consensual. I don’t know what else I can say.”

“You’ve said enough. I don’t know what I can believe anymore.”

“Phil, let me come into the lift and explain. Please.”

“Get the hell away from me,” he yelled, feeling tears prick his eyes. “This whole thing was a mistake anyway.”

Now it was Dan’s turn to look teary-eyed. “A mistake?”

“You heard me. I wish none of this had ever happened.”

“But Phil-”

Dan’s voice was drowned out by the lift doors closing. Even then, he couldn’t let himself cry, especially with the knowledge that he was still in the same building as Dan. He needed to get back to his hotel room first, then think later.

Staring at his reflection in the mirror, his mind was completely drained of words. His eyes were wild, threatening to spill over with tears. He thanked whatever deity was out there that he hadn’t gotten himself drunk. On one hand, alcohol would be the perfect solution to what he was feeling right now, but on the other, it made him a ghost of himself. The only way he could process the emotions he was feeling was if he was sober.

He walked as calmly as he could out of the lobby, almost feeling the receptionist’s eyes on his back. Though it was the last thing he wanted to do, he mustered a half-smile to the doormen standing outside.

The temperature change was sudden and chilling. Wrapping his arms around himself, he walked away from the Dorchester, away from wherever Dan was. Once he’d turned the corner, his resolve broke. With his fingers shaking and fumbling, he called PJ.

“What’s up, lover boy?”

The nickname stung. “Peej?”

PJ could instantly tell that something was wrong.

“Phil? Are you okay? What happened?”

“He… he…”

“I didn’t quite get that?”

“C-could you get a taxi to come here?”

“I, uh… sure, okay. It’ll be here in 15.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Static. “Promise me something, though.”

“What?”

“Promise me you’ll tell me what’s happened?”

“Not now,” Phil eventually replied. “But at some point.”

“Fine,” PJ gave in. “Call me when you’re back at the hotel.”

Even as he waited, his eyes were still surprisingly dry. The only consoling thought he had was one of a warm bed, a fortress of pillows and duvets where he could hide and pull himself back together. If he cried in public, he wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive himself. Night was getting colder; the tears would probably freeze on his cheeks in perfectly contained droplets of crystalline sadness.

His eyes were still dry as he got into the taxi and weakly gave directions to his hotel. Slumped on the backseat, he watched the world through the window, not even bothering to acknowledge the surge of overwhelming loneliness he felt.

The tears started flowing when Phil reached his room. They streamed down his face, hot and bitter, as the full weight of what had just happened hit him. It was supposed to be a night to remember. Sure, it was a night to remember, but for all the wrong reasons.

This couldn’t be happening. It had already happened, and as much as he wanted things to be different, Phil couldn’t control time.

Dan was supposed to be his boyfriend, to want to be with him. Phil was supposed to wake up in the same bed as him before he had to leave for Paris, cradled in his warmth and the safety of his arms.

Paris. The mention of it made his tears flow even harder. He didn’t have time to listen to Dan’s petty excuses; this time tomorrow, he’d be in a Parisian hotel, wallowing in what could have been.

He wanted to believe that it was all just an accident, he really did, but he couldn’t help but reflect on the intensity of it. Dan was _moaning_ , for God’s sake. All the times they’d kissed on Dan’s sofa had been relatively silent. That spoke volumes.

“He kissed you first,” he whispered, but for all he knew, Dan could have been faking the whole time. Maybe Phil was just an easy target, a man too naïve to realise what he was getting himself into. Maybe Dan had done exactly the same with countless others – maybe he made them feel like there was something that could last forever, only to leave them weeks after.

Two weeks. Fourteen days. 336 hours. That was all it had been. Phil hated himself for thinking he had something with Dan. He’d gotten ahead of himself, like he always did, and the consequences were painfully clear.

_He doesn’t want you. He never did._

The all-too-familiar thoughts at the back of his head grew with every minute he spent thinking about it, until they were unbearable. He had no choice but to believe them.

At that moment, he knew what he needed to do. It would be upsetting for PJ and Chris, he knew that much, but he needed to do this for himself. He was running out of solutions, and trying to explain what had happened to the two of them would be more pain than it was worth.

When he’d finally gained the energy to go to the bathroom, he removed his contacts, put his glasses on and stared at the two empty eyes in front of him. All the crying had caused them to become bloodshot, but there was something vacant about them, as if he wasn’t whole anymore.

Sighing, he slipped off PJ’s suit and got into a pair of boxers. He felt a pang of guilt that he wouldn’t be able to return it to him before leaving, but he had no other choice. He shouldn’t have gone to the party in the first place. Maybe ignorance was bliss.

10 minutes later, he was snuggled in bed and on his phone, pointedly ignoring the number of texts and missed calls he had from Dan. He stared at the contact, his finger hovering over the call button. If he went through with this, he couldn’t change his mind.

_He doesn’t want you._

Finally, he pressed ‘call’.

After a few rings, the person on the other line picked up. “Phil?”

“Hey. Sorry about the time.”

“No problem. Everything okay?”

“Yes! It’s just to do with my trip to Paris tomorrow.”

“What about it?”

“Would it be possible to get an earlier flight?”

There was a pause from the other line. “I just checked on the website. There’s a flight from Heathrow to Paris at 11:15, if that’s more convenient for you? I can refund your current ticket for an earlier one and send you your new boarding card in an email.”

“That’s perfect! Thank you so much.”

“The things I do for you,” the voice tutted. “It’s getting late. You should sleep. Early start tomorrow.”

“Good idea,” Phil agreed, involuntarily yawning. “Thanks for the help. I’ll talk soon.”

“You too. Bye.”

That was it. There really was no turning back. Phil was going to get away from London and go to Paris. Focusing on his job would probably be a welcome respite from the chaos he’d endured. To hell with Dan. To hell with the idea that anyone would ever want to be with him. He was better off alone, like he always was.

At least when he was alone nobody could hurt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well that was angsty gotdam
> 
> if you're reading this i have a lil question to ask: would you prefer a chapter from Dan's perspective (chapter 10.5 if you will) or a chapter from Phil's perspective (chapter 11)? let me know and i'll see you (hopefully) on wednesday with whatever you decide :')


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is obviously on time what are you talking about
> 
> also i know a lot of you wanted a chapter from dan's perspective but i've decided that i like how it is from phil's So this is another chapter from his perspective! sorry for a) the late update, b) that i maybe didn't write the chapter you wanted and c) the length of this chapter. i've written all of chapter 10.5 and once this fic is finished i'll publish it :~)
> 
> having said all of that i hope u enjoy! <3

Loneliness wasn’t a tidal wave like Phil had expected it to be. It wasn’t sudden, or overwhelming – rather, it pulled him under piece by piece, minute by minute. After a while, what had seemed like an initial shock had turned into a neverending ache.

At the start of the day, he was strangely quiet as he finished packing his things. After all this time, he still hadn’t bothered to improve how he packed, with clothes folded haphazardly, thrown in and shoved down to the bottom. His mind wandered to how good Dan had been with organising his suitcase and he sighed.

_He doesn’t want you._

Of course he didn’t. Who would? He had no redeemable qualities, nothing that made him distinctive. He was just Phil, a sad twenty-something year old who lived alone and worked alone. Everything he did was alone, and he was beginning to become resigned to the fact that things would always be this way.

When he was finally ready to leave, he stared at the little hotel room he’d called home for the past couple of days. He smiled, but it was melancholy and laced with a kind of longing he could never satisfy.

For the most part, he’d enjoyed himself, despite the sour note his trip had ended on. Spending time with PJ and Chris was always fun, even it was all-too-brief, and getting to explore London more had been exciting. The days had passed by in a haze of sightseeing and sleepless nights and hushed words over half-drained bottles.

Being an experienced traveller came in handy that morning. Phil knew how to check out of hotels and manoeuvre airports like the back of his hand, which was convenient when he needed an escape, a fresh start. In theory, the journey should have been easy, but there was something holding him back – some feeling he couldn’t shake.

As he sat in the taxi from his hotel to the airport, the feeling only grew, flooding his veins and churning in his stomach. It gnawed away, relentless, until he was forced to pause the music he was listening to and exhale shakily.

This was wrong. This was so, so wrong, but what was he supposed to do? If he stayed in London any longer, the number of missed calls from everyone would become unbearable, but if he fled it all, he left behind a trail of confusion and hurt. It was a lose-lose situation.

Sitting in traffic gave Phil time to dwell even more on what had happened, something he didn’t have the energy to do. He hadn’t slept well the night before, and that combined with a cloud of guilt hanging over him left a bad taste in his mouth.

When he stepped out of the taxi and stared at the terminal in front of him, he was painfully reminded of how everything had started. He knew it was melodramatic and clichéd to say the least, but he didn’t know how else to feel.

Dragging his suitcase along reminded him of the panic he’d been in waiting for his suitcase on the baggage carousel, and how the wheel had been squeaky. A bitter laugh escaped his mouth. He was the one who had started this all; now he was the one to end it.

At this point, Phil had adopted a fairly standard airport routine: get through security, get food, get on the flight. Security was straightforward, as was making his way through various shops to find somewhere he could buy breakfast. In his rush to leave, he hadn’t eaten anything, and his craving for a cup of coffee and a granola bar was becoming more and more urgent.

Once he’d had some caffeine, he felt significantly more awake. The airport wifi was always lousy, leaving him nothing to do apart from scrolling through his camera roll or playing another mundane round of Crossy Road.

His finger hovered over the phone icon, which had a whopping 23 notifications. Opening it, he saw 14 were from Dan, 6 were from PJ and 3 were from Chris. Almost as quickly as he’d opened it, he closed it. Now wasn’t the time to consider listening to voicemails.

When it had been announced that his gate was ready for boarding, he drained the remnants of his coffee, pocketed his phone and made his way to the gate. He’d been in airports (and this one in particular) countless times, but this time felt noticeably different.

Normally, he was calm but purposeful – able to make his way through hordes of people to get to where he needed to go. Nothing fazed him, or startled him. He knew where everything was and what to do in an emergency.

If only he could apply that to what was going on with Dan.

Nobody else had made him feel such a broad spectrum of emotions in such a small amount of time. When it had been good, it was near perfect, breathless and sun-soaked and sweet. It was funny how quickly those feelings could shift, how one wrong move was a catalyst for everything to come tumbling down.

As he approached the gate, he wondered whether he’d overreacted. Seeing a person he’d grown close to all over someone else had been devastating, an invisible blow that only he could feel. It had been too dark for him to see what lay behind Dan’s eyes, and he’d run before anything else happened.

Looking back, he realised the intensity of the moment; his eyes had faltered to meet Dan’s, and his mouth had spewed out bitter words before his brain could catch up. He’d said everything was a mistake, and the look on Dan’s face was so crushed that thinking about it made Phil too upset.

Maybe he’d already done irreparable damage. Maybe he was clinging onto something that was going to slip away. Maybe it was supposed to just be a fling – a point in time where the two of them could escape the everyday and lose themselves in each other. Maybe it would burn bright, but after  a while, the flame would fizzle out.

When he’d finally made it onto the plane and stowed away his suitcase, his resolve broke down yet again. PJ at the very least deserved to know what was happening. Phil owed it to him as recompense for everything he’d done for him.

“Phil?”

“Hey, Peej,” Phil said. “I don’t have long to talk, but I couldn’t keep you hanging forever, I guess.”

“Why not?”

“I’m taking off in a few minutes.”

“You’re on a plane?” PJ asked, his voice panicked.

“Yeah? I’m going to Paris,” he replied. “Work and all.”

“You didn’t even say goodbye.”

PJ’s hurt was palpable through the phone. It hurt Phil, to leave him like that, but it was the least worst option he had.

“I couldn’t stay,” he sighed. “Last night was terrible. I need time to think.”

“You can have time to think without leaving the fucking country,” PJ retorted. “What happened last night?”

Phil paused, debating over the right words to say. He didn’t want to paint Dan in a bad light, or make PJ resentful towards him, but it still stung more than he realised.

“He… was with someone else.”

“Was he doing anything?”

“They were, uh… they were kissing.”

“WHAT THE FUCK!” PJ all but yelled. “Why didn’t you tell me this yesterday?”

“I was still in shock. I still am. I don’t know.”

“Shit,” PJ murmured. “That’s awful.”

“Tell me about it.”

“And that’s why you left so suddenly?”

“Basically,” Phil sighed. “Doing something somewhere else will help. Paris is a beautiful city.”

“It’s nicknamed ‘the city of love’,” PJ deadpanned. “Seeing a bunch of loved up couples everywhere is bound to help you get over whatever was happening between you and Dan.”

“Don’t make me hang up on you,” Phil warned. As much as he hated admitting it, PJ had a point.

“You wouldn’t dare,” PJ teased. “I’m your best friend. I’m here to listen to you rant about whatever the hell you want. Just don’t go away so soon all the time.”

“To be fair, it’s for work,” Phil countered. “Maybe one day I’ll move to London. You never know.”

“One day,” PJ replied wistfully. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“I’m a sensible adult!” Phil protested. “I make sensible adult decisions and do sensible adult things.”

“Remind me what you’re doing again?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying. Take care of yourself, okay? Don’t go stalking off with some random guy you meet in a French nightclub, or anything. You need time to heal.”

“I wouldn’t do that anyway,” Phil grinned. “Thanks, Peej.”

“Any time. You better keep me updated on how things go in Paris.”

“Fine. The flight’s about half an hour. I’ll text you when I reach the hotel.”

“Good.”

“Great. Talk soon.”

“Bye.”

Since the captain had announced that the plane would be taking off shortly, Phil hoped Chris would be okay with a lengthy apology text explaining everything that had happened. Once he’d sent the text, he stared at the number of unread texts from Dan and something within him stopped.

No. Not right now. He needed space to breathe. The combination of the plane’s lack of air conditioning and his rapid pulse wasn’t doing anything good for him.

In an attempt to block everything out, he slid on his headphones and blasted some music. Thankfully, he’d never properly talked about his taste in music to Dan. Not having music as a coping mechanism would have been borderline impossible to cope with.

Just like he couldn’t handle landings, Phil was equally bad with takeoffs. Gripping the armrests, he tried to focus on the chords that were buzzing around his mind.

From above, London by night was stunning. By day, it was just another city, filled with differing colours and hues and heartbeats. The sky was dense with clouds that seemed to weigh down the horizon, and Phil couldn’t help but find it ironically apt.

The flight was on the shorter side, which Phil was grateful for. He’d arranged a taxi (even in a different country, he still used the damn things like his life depended on it), and had made sure to give himself a decent amount of time to get to it.

Passport control was manageable as always. When Phil had made it through and saw his name on a sign being held up, he waved to get the man’s attention. Glancing down at his phone, he smiled when he saw he had time to spare. Slowly but surely, he was learning to avoid past mistakes.

The taxi from the airport to the hotel was a quiet affair. Phil gazed out of the window and tried to absorb as much of Paris as possible – its architecture, the people that roamed the streets, even graffiti lazily painted onto walls. It was often the little things that gave him the greatest sense of what a place was like.

When Phil had checked into his hotel, he pulled out half a granola bar he’d saved from before and slowly chewed on it. He didn’t have much of an appetite, and he couldn’t be bothered to leave his room to find somewhere to eat. That could wait for tomorrow.

He spent the next couple of hours absentmindedly unpacking bits and pieces and playing rounds of Crossy Road. For an app where you could play as an ‘emo goose’, it was strangely therapeutic.

The next time he properly looked up, the sun had slowly begun to sink down the sky, dispelling warm light with it. He sighed. Staring around at his new hotel room, everything felt unfamiliar. It wasn’t necessarily a _bad_ room, with billowing curtains and a soft glowing lamp and windows that gave way to a view of the Parisian skyline, but it was different.

The number of notifications he’d received had gone up a stupid amount. It was understandable – he’d left without saying goodbye and without any sort of explanation as to why, but they were doing his head in. Sighing, he called voicemail and tried to prepare himself for what he was about to hear.

“36 new messages,” the monotonous voice said. “Message from Dan at 10:57pm.”

“ _Phil…_ ” the message began.

He winced. Even hearing Dan’s voice was painful.

“ _I, uh, I… screwed up. I can stand here and say it wasn’t my fault, but you won’t believe me. Of course you won’t. I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry, Phil. Please let me explain. Nothing I say now will convince you, but I’d be damned if I didn’t at least try_.”

There was a pause. Phil felt his bottom lip waver.

“ _Please call me back. Or text me. I don’t care. Just – don’t ignore me. I can fix this. I promise. And that’s it, I guess._ ”

“Press 2 to repeat, 3 to delete-”

Phil hung up before it had time to finish, feeling tears threatening to spill over. He hated everything. He hated how weak he was being, how his only solution to problems was to run away from them. He hated his job, which had separated him from some of the only friends he had. He hated Dan, for doing what he did. More than anything, though, he hated the way things had panned out.

Later that evening, when he was curled up in bed, he shivered and let tears stream down his face and splash on his arms.

Soon enough, something would give. He could only stretch so far before he snapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> phil's still emo rip
> 
> i mentioned this above but i initially wrote dan's chapter then had a lil crisis on wednesday which led to me banging out this chapter. i'll try to not be so sloppy next time lmao
> 
> anyway! i hope u all have a lovely day and i'll see u soon (hm) with chapter 12 :')


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a week oops i'm sorry
> 
> i'm also sorry to anyone reading this who lives in paris. everything i've written is either from extensive google earth sessions or personal experience so if it's not 100% accurate then let's just call it artistic licence sdfksjdfk
> 
> finally! i'm sorry to anyone who wanted a longer chapter. i promise the next couple of chapters will be huge to make up for it <3

The next morning, Phil felt numb. Dan’s words played over and over in his mind, seeping through him.

“ _Just - don’t ignore me. I can fix this._ ”

He didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh or cry. Whatever Dan had hoped he’d do, he’d done the opposite. The average person wouldn’t catch a flight to a different country just to get away from a problem.

Phil reprimanded himself. It was for work. He was getting paid to do this, and even if it felt like he didn’t have anything else, he had a job he needed to hold onto. With that mindset, he tried to suppress everything he was feeling and focus on the task at hand.

The hotel he was staying at had a restaurant where he was currently sat eating breakfast. It was bathed in the early glow of morning, with light caressing the plate he was eating from and painting the floor with luminescent stripes.

To get into the spirit of things, Phil had ordered the ‘selection of miniature French pastries’. When he saw that it came with café au lait, his mind was momentarily clouded over with brown curls and dimple-filled smiles and ardent eyes. His brow furrowed. Suppressing everything was going to be harder than he initially thought.

Before he travelled anywhere, he often planned out things to do. Paris was renowned for its more notable landmarks, such as the Eiffel Tower and the Notre Dame Cathedral, but it also had numerous museums, parks and shopping centres to explore. One of the most exciting parts about what he did for a living was getting to explore different places and cultures.

Another part of his job was to make sure his writing was convincing enough to make his readers want to travel to wherever he’d been. Sometimes, that involved being strategic about the order he visited things: touristy places came first, then places to eat, then more niche places to go for people who were looking for something extra.

First on his list was the Eiffel Tower. No matter what time of day he came, there was always a horrific queue. When he’d reached the end of it, he sighed and scribbled a few things down in a notebook.

Phil was the kind of writer who could blend facts with more descriptive aspects, which came in handy when recommending places to go to. Reading over what he’d written, he crossed out a couple of words and smiled at what he’d done.

Though he queued for the best part of an hour, it proved to be worth it. The view was beyond anything he could put into words; to one side lay endless buildings and greenery that stretched out before his eyes, to the other, the Trocadero Gardens, separated by the winding Seine.

Since it was nearing midday, the sun had begun to arch up the sky and spill light across all it touched. The way it lit up the trees reminded Phil of the day he’d spent with Dan in Greenwich Park, lying on a blanket and watching the world go by. His heart twinged at the thought.

It had been nearly a full day since he’d left London, but it felt like a small eternity. Every minute ticked on and on, and Phil didn’t know how much longer he could wait.

He didn’t even know what he was waiting for. He couldn’t just abandon his job to go running back into Dan’s arms. As much as he wanted to, he deserved to be upset. Holding his ground was the best thing to do.

His surroundings seemed the tiniest bit duller after he’d wrenched himself out of his brain. They’d be prettier if he could share them with someone.

Paris wasn’t described as ‘the city of love’ for nothing. Wherever he looked, there were couples taking in the view, pointing out particular buildings that caught their eye or taking photos together. In fact, as he looked around, it slowly sank in that he was the only person there who was alone.

Alone. 5 little letters strung together that were weighed down with such sadness. It wasn’t easy to pretend he was coping. Every waking moment filled his mind with more unanswered questions, more doubts that grew in his mind like a disease.

With the Eiffel Tower ticked off his list, he followed what he’d written down and decided to visit l’Arc de Triomphe, an impressive looking landmark which (according to his guide) was designed by Jean Chalgrin.

When he finally arrived, he could only admire Jean’s design; it was intricately made and impressively tall without being intimidating. What made it even better was that it was free to see, something Phil hoped his readers would appreciate. It was always a struggle trying to balance readability with factual content and reliable information.

The early start to skip the queues of the Eiffel Tower began to catch up with him. When his stomach grumbled at him, he decided that getting lunch somewhere wasn’t the worst idea. Luckily for him, l’Arc de Triomphe stood right by the Champs Elysées, a road full of shops and restaurants for him to scout out.

Just like London, Paris was vibrant and thrumming. All around him, cars were squealing down roads and music echoed out of shops; it was a cacophony of sound that was borderline dizzying. After making his way through throngs of people and into a restaurant that looked a little less fancy than some others, he sat at a table alone and pulled out his laptop.

Typing up his spread probably wasn’t the most socially acceptable thing to do at a restaurant, but Phil was learning to care less about what other people thought of him. He needed something to take his mind off the chaos he’d left behind, and drowning himself in fake-happy journalism seemed like the only way to do it.

A waiter approached him. Phil’s French wasn’t the most fluent, but it was enough to get him a drink and a crêpe. Opting for a painfully stereotypical French food was the quickest way to immerse himself.

With his stomach full and his wallet emptier, Phil decided to crash back at his hotel to write up his day’s journey. He was growing more tired, and as delicious as his lunch was, it had only made him sleepier.

As soon as he saw his bed, he jumped onto it and opened his laptop to write. Normally, his fingertips would glide across a keyboard with a gentle ease that most journalists tended to possess, but he was fading, and his fingertips felt like they were filled with cement.

Everything he’d written at the restaurant was probably decent, but he couldn’t concentrate. Eventually, his thoughts grew fuzzier and fuzzier until his eyelids drooped shut.

Suddenly he was back in the Dorchester, but things were different, warped slightly. Looking around, he didn’t recognise the room he was standing in, but some subconscious part of him knew he was in the Pavilion. It had the same lofty ceiling and the same luxurious décor, but the lack of people made it seem alien.

He wasn’t alone. Directly in front of him on the opposite side of the room was Dan, wearing the same suit as he had on the night of his party. Phil faltered slightly. This was too soon. What was he supposed to say?

When he looked at Dan, he saw his lips were moving, but no sound came out. The lack of sound was disorienting to say the least.

“Dan? I can’t hear you!”

Dan frowned, took in a deep breath and opened his mouth again. For a second time, the only sound was some incessant ringing in Phil’s ears that he couldn’t get rid of.

Then his face contorted with anguish, pain visible across it. Phil tried to move to help him, but his limbs weren’t cooperating. As hard as he pushed, he was fighting a losing battle. The air was thick and impenetrable, and every step he took barely moved him any further forward.

The closer Phil got to Dan, the more pain he was in. Every step he took was an invisible blow to Dan; one step was a droplet of blood that fell from his lips, or a kick in his side. In his hazy, dreamlike state, he couldn’t think straight. Dan needed help, but the more he tried to help, the more damage he did.

When he finally reached Dan, he knelt down and faced him. Dan’s mouth was frantically moving, but up close, the ringing sound grew louder.

He gently placed his hand on Dan’s shoulder, tentative with how close he suddenly was. It felt like forever since they’d been together, since Phil had been able to reach out and touch him. The gap between them was small, but it held an infinite amount of uncertainty and trepidation.

Dan jerked away. Confused, Phil moved his hand back. Five blazing fingerprints lay where Phil’s hand had been, and Dan clutched his shoulder. Looking down at his hands, Phil saw no difference to them. How could he have caused Dan so much pain?

Suddenly, it clicked.

He didn’t know the pain he’d caused. He didn’t know what he’d put Dan through, how even the smallest of actions could have a devastating effect on him.

Looking over, Phil saw Dan shaking, tears streaming down his face. The fingerprints on his shoulder were still smoking, wounds that were deep-set and dangerously black. When Dan tried to speak yet again and no sound came out, things made even more sense.

Dan couldn’t tell Phil the pain he’d caused him.

If that was the case, wasn’t Dan better off without him? Didn’t he deserve someone who was more like him, someone who could treat him with the care he deserved? Didn’t he deserve someone reliable?

Realisation upon realisation only struck more blows Dan’s way until he stopped crying. Oddly serene, he sat, gazing up at Phil with a look that words didn’t do justice to.

“Dan?” he murmured, shakily reaching out to stroke his cheek. When Dan didn’t pull away, he smiled and watched as Dan leant into his hand, his eyes closed.

“It’s all a dream,” Dan replied, his voice different. Phil frowned. He could hear Dan now?

“What do you mean?”

“It’s all a dream, Phil.”

Then Dan was crumbling before his eyes, disintegrating into nothingness. Panicked, Phil yanked his hand away, feeling equally confused and terrified. It was a dream, that was what Dan had told him, but he’d just crumbled in front of him. Now he was nothing but a pile of dust on the floor.

A small pile of dust had fallen into his hand. Breathing shakily, he let it trickle to the ground in ribbons of powder.

_Don’t let him slip through your fingers._

Phil’s eyes snapped open in shock. Looking around, he frowned before coming to his senses. His laptop was sat in front of him, still open on the same Word document. Outside, the sun looked like it was beginning to set. A strange sense of déjà vu washed over him.

Groaning, he stretched out and tried to soothe the ache in his neck. He’d fallen asleep at a strange angle, and when he’d woken up so suddenly, he feared he’d given himself whiplash.

He didn’t have the energy to move, so he decided to work more on his writing until he either fell asleep or the sun came up. Working all night didn’t strike him as particularly professional, but if he did what he needed to do, he didn’t mind how much his sleep schedule suffered.

Hour after hour, he typed. When he got into his flow, words almost poured out of him, and each paragraph he wrote filled his spirits a little more. Having something to work with was better than nothing.

When his fingers got tired, he read through what he’d written and laughed at his terrible grammar. At this point, it was approaching 3am, so even the inanest thing made him giggly.

It also happened that Phil became more emotional during the early hours of the morning. He’d sworn to himself that he’d avoid listening to anymore voicemails to minimise how much he cried, but it was dark and he only had the stars to keep him company.

“42 new messages. Message from Dan at 11:01pm.”

“ _Phil… please pick up. Just once. I don’t know what I expected, but please. It isn’t as bad as you think it is._ ”

“Press 2 to repeat, 3 to delete-”

Phil deleted several messages without even listening to them. He was sinking deeper and deeper into a hole, unable to even begin to process what he was feeling. As much as he wanted to believe it wasn’t bad, he couldn’t, especially over the phone.

The way Dan looked at him seemed hard to fake, but how could he know? He’d never acted in his life. He’d never pretended to be someone else to mask his true intentions, or who he really was.

(There was never a bad time to start.)

With the sun beginning to rise, he finally vowed to leave London behind him and focus on what he came to Paris to do.

-

Standing in front of the Louvre, Phil was glad he’d taken Claire’s advice. He couldn’t exactly remember what she’d said, but he remembered her vivid enthusiasm. That and the rave reviews about the café inside it had been enough to convince him.

Although the inverted glass pyramid in front of him was a little unusual, he could only appreciate the effort and skill required to make it. Surrounding the pyramid was a hugely grand building, with dozens of arched windows and pillars and other decorative features he couldn’t name.

Security was unsurprisingly strict, so he couldn’t take his laptop with him to write. Sighing, he pocketed his notebook and pen and made his way inside.

According to the website, there were permanent exhibitions as well as temporary. Phil noted that permanent exhibitions were free on Sundays, something he wished he’d known before visiting. He hoped his readers would appreciate it.

The more art he looked at, the more he realised he knew nothing about it. He needed someone to ramble to him about certain paintings or sculptures, someone whose eyes lit up with excitement, someone who couldn’t keep their hands still when they talked.

He needed Dan.

He needed him, God, he needed him, and there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t abandon his job and go back to him. He couldn’t bring himself to call Dan, even to hear his voice. He couldn’t even call PJ to talk about how he was feeling.

Standing in the middle of an exhibition with the low murmur of people around him, he felt another surge of loneliness. It was loneliness he’d created for himself, an isolated cocoon for his protection, but he needed to get out of it.

Although he’d paid to visit the exhibitions for the day, he needed to leave. His emotions were rising to the surface, and having a breakdown in the middle of one of the world’s most famous museums made him want to jump out a window. Any art connoisseur watching him leave looked surprised, which only made him feel more embarrassed.

 _Ignore them_ , he said to himself. _Get to the hotel now and think later_.

As he ran down the stairs and out of the building, he was able to finally breathe again. Squinting in the sudden brightness, he exhaled and walked away from the Louvre towards hopeful sanity.

By the doorway, a figure watched him longingly before ducking out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope u enjoyed! :')
> 
> i'm going on holiday (again lmao) tomorrow but i'll probably have wifi and more free time to write so i'll see u all again soon <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! it's been too long i'm so sorry :(
> 
> hopefully this chapter will make up for it !! ily all and i hope u enjoy <3
> 
> (lil warning that there are brief mentions of violence and blood) (and no it's probably not as bad as you think i promise)

Slipping, slipping, slipping.

Without realising, Phil was slipping into a state of mind he wasn’t sure he could escape from. In the span of a few days, he’d lost Dan, his friends, and at the rate he was going, he feared he could lose his job too.

The rest of his time in Paris stretched on uncertainly before him. Soon he’d have visited everything he planned to see. He’d type up yet another spread and submit it to his boss for approval, and spend the whole night fretting over ever tiny grammatical detail.

Soon he’d be flying back home to Manchester. He’d sit on his bed and watch the world slowly turn around him and wonder whether Manchester really _was_ home. Phil didn’t know if he belonged anywhere anymore.

Since he wasn’t in the mood to call PJ or Chris, he ended up calling his last resort – his mum. It sometimes took low moments in his life to appreciate who was there for him, and his mum was the one person who would always listen regardless of the situation.

“Child!”

“Hey, Mum,” he greeted her, his voice slightly croaky. “How’ve you been?”

“Nothing much has happened, love. Your father and I miss you though. You’ve been so busy with your job recently.”

“I guess I have been,” he mumbled. “That was part of the reason why I called.”

“Has something happened?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’m your mother,” she chastised him. “I’ll find out sooner or later.”

Begrudgingly, Phil retold the story of what had unfolded over the past two weeks. She laughed with him as he confessed to taking the wrong suitcase, listened as he gushed about Dan and fell silent when he told her about his current situation.

At the end of it, he felt his resolve break down. Bringing up what happened reopened wounds he was desperately trying to heal, parts of his mind he wanted to lock up and throw away the key for. Sniffling, he waited for her reply.

“So, what now?” she asked softly.

“I wish I knew.”

“That’s a little dramatic, dear.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I just – I don’t know what to do.”

“It depends on what you want the outcome of the situation to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if you’re willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and let him explain himself, things might turn out alright. If it’s just miscommunication, that’s solvable. And if you can’t forgive him, at least tell him that. He deserves to know what you’re thinking.”

“I don’t know if I can face him again,” he whispered, tentative.

“You have to try. It might be painful, but it’s less painful than living with regret.”

“Fine. I’ll try. But I’m in Paris and he’s in London. The earliest I can see him again is over a week away.”

“Then allow yourself time to decide what you want to do. In the meantime, you should be working.”

“I know, Mum,” Phil chuckled. “I’ve written over a third of the spread already. Something to take my mind off it all.”

“If you say so. Just…” she trailed off suddenly. “Make sure you take care of yourself. I worry about you.”

“You shouldn’t worry about me,” he murmured.

“It’s part of being a parent. You’ll realise one day. Until then, listen to your old mum and be safe.”

“I am safe.”

“Promise me you’ll be safe and dress appropriately for the weather and get fresh air.”

“I promise.”

“Good. Oh! And make sure you enjoy Paris! It’s a lovely city.”

“It is. I might go for a walk, actually.”

“I won’t keep you then. I’m so glad you called, love. Keep me updated on how things go.”

“I will. Thanks. Love you.”

“I love you too. Bye.”

As soon as the line went dead, Phil paused. His mum’s words resonated within him, dispelling light onto things he didn’t want to think about but was forced to confront. The whole time, he’d been stuck in his head, concerned about himself. He wanted to laugh at how selfish that was.

He imagined if his and Dan’s roles were swapped. If it was an honest mistake, one he couldn’t avoid, he wouldn’t want Dan to hurl bitter words at him. He wouldn’t want Dan to call what they’d had a ‘mistake’. Above all, though, he wouldn’t want Dan to ignore his attempts at contacting him.

His mum was right. Something had to give. If he wanted a future with Dan, he was responsible for making it happen. With that thought in mind, he made a mental note to contact him later.

Glancing outside, the weather didn’t really seem to be doing anything. There was no sun, it wasn’t raining – it was like the sky had decided to take a break, like it was unsure of what to do. Phil was silently concerned with how much he related to it.

After shoving a few essentials into his rucksack and tying his shoelaces, he was heading out of the hotel and into Paris. Every other time he’d been out thus far, he’d had a plan. This time was different. This time, he was content with seeing where his feet took him.

The thought of whether he should be working or not had nestled itself in the forefront of his mind. He pushed it away. Now wasn’t the time for thinking about Dan, or work, or anything. Paris was beautiful if he allowed himself to look outwards rather than inwards.

In terms of architecture, Phil had noted that Paris had a lot more diversity than London. Every street he glanced down or building he walked past seemed brighter, livelier. It oozed the kind of vitality he wished he could find back in England.

Without realising, he found himself walking back towards the Eiffel Tower. Though he wasn’t sure he could stomach going up again, it was surrounded with greenery. There were bound to be some benches he could sit on and watch the world go by.

Finding an empty bench, he sat down and opened Spotify. Choosing a film soundtrack he liked, he took in the view around him and let himself be almost cleansed by the breeze that whistled by.

Any thoughts that he had drained from his head. They were replaced with soothing piano and violin and other instruments that he couldn’t name, but still appreciated. For the first time since he’d landed, he felt calm, in control of things.

Riding the crest of this calmness, he pulled out a notebook and wrote down things he needed to write down. Most of the words he ended up scribbling were directed towards Dan; half-baked thoughts that would otherwise grow stale if he were to ignore them.

He had no idea how long he wrote for, but his wrist began to ache after a while. Setting his pen down, he flicked back through the pages he’d written and let out a low whistle. Writing his thoughts down was more therapeutic than he’d realised.

Feeling significantly better than he’d been earlier, he shoved his notebook back in his rucksack and began to make his way back to the hotel. Listening to music wasn’t the best idea while walking, but he didn’t mind. In a way, it heightened what he saw around him. He felt like a character in a book.

As he was crossing the bridge over the Seine, he noticed the sheer volume of people and sighed. If the people in Paris were anything like the people in London, he figured he’d end up with a couple of minor bruises. Strangers were often surprisingly aggressive when they needed to get somewhere.

When he’d made it across the bridge, he gave himself a metaphorical pat on the back for making it across unharmed. He thought from there that he’d be alright – he could grab some dinner somewhere, read over what he’d written and sleep. That was where he was wrong.

It was already too late when it had happened. Without realising, he knocked into the side of someone. Wincing at the sudden contact, he turned his music off.

“Hey! Look where you’re-”

Whipping his head around, he stopped.

Phil felt like all the air had been knocked out of his lungs. No matter how hard and fast he breathed, it felt like no oxygen was reaching his system. This couldn’t be real.

It was the exact same way he’d felt when he saw Dan with someone else; he wanted to run away as far as he could, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Maybe his contacts had been in too long again. Mentally counting back, he realised they’d only been in for the best part of 4 hours. His vision wasn’t failing him. Dan was standing in front of him, looking just as shocked and lost for words.

He was still as gorgeous as ever. Though it looked like all the blood had drained from his face, it was still bright, dusted with wispy freckles and slightly flushed. In his disbelief, he’d run a hand through his hair and combed it back, causing it to flop down in a strange tangle of curls.

Dan’s lips were moving infinitesimally, struggling to find the right thing to say. From the way he was looking at Phil, it felt like he didn’t think there wasn’t a right thing he could say.

“I…” he began, trailing off. His eyes were blinking rapidly, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing either. “Phil?”

“Dan.”

“This is odd.”

“You don’t say,” he replied, bemused.

Dan stared down at his feet, twiddling his thumbs. “I have some explaining to do, don’t I?”

“Yes, but not right now. Not in public.”

“Okay.”

They both paused, teetering on the edge of something neither of them were able to comprehend. The more Phil looked at Dan, the more jumbled his thoughts became. The likelihood of Dan being in Paris at the same time as Phil was slim enough already, let alone bumping into him. He felt his heart pounding in his throat.

It had been 4 days since they’d last seen each other, but it felt like months. Seeing Dan again so soon had jarred Phil out of the slump he’d been in, leaving him utterly stranded. His mind went back to the night everything had fallen apart, and he flickered between the Dan he knew then and the Dan he knew now.

_Don’t let him slip through your fingers_.

That was exactly what he’d done. Heeding his mother’s words, he took a calming breath and spoke.

“The hotel I’m staying at,” he began, feeling his voice shake. “We could go there.”

After Dan’s questioning look, he added, “I’m not doing anything important. Besides, we need to talk at some point about what happened.”

Dan simply nodded in reply and walked alongside him. The immediate tension had diffused a little and fizzled into a mixture of confusion and silent longing. Seeing Dan again had reminded Phil why he’d fallen for him, and he’d be damned if he didn’t try to fix the damage that had been done.

No words were spoken as Dan followed Phil back to his hotel. Occasionally, their eyes would meet, but Phil couldn’t tell if Dan was trying to say something with the look he was giving him. He wasn’t sure Dan could say anything nonverbally that would change their situation.

Once the two of them were in Phil’s hotel room, he sat at one end and Dan perched on the other end. The silence lay thick inbetween them; the only sounds were those coming from outside, distant and muted.

“So. Last Saturday,” Dan started, his eyes downcast. “It’s clichéd as fuck to say it’s a long story, but it is.”

“Go on.”

Dan sighed. “The Tate Modern. December 7th 2015\. It was my first day as a curator, and I was terrified. I was always that one overbearing arty kid who doodled on everything. Art’s been my passion for as long as I can remember, so I guess having a career dedicated to it was always the dream.

“On my first day, I met two people: Claire and Will. Claire paired me up with Will, who showed me the ropes. You can probably see where the story is going, but we grew close. I was just a painfully introverted art lover, but he drew out a better side of me. A wilder side.

“And a few months went by and I could feel myself falling deeper and deeper for him. It’s such a strange feeling, falling for someone. He had these eyes that were somewhere between green and brown, and this hair that was always immaculate. I couldn’t imagine he’d ever reciprocate my feelings. I thought he was just being flirty with me because that was the kind of person he was.

“After Christmas, Will invited me to his place for some drinks. I thought there would be other people, but when I arrived, it was just the two of us. I’d never been so nervous in my life. We watched some movie and drank gin and everything was sort of blissfully fuzzy. Then he kissed me.”

Dan’s eyes flickered over to Phil’s. His face was blank and impassive, and his lack of response urged Dan on.

“A week later, we decided to give things a go. I’d never been so happy in my life. Somebody actually wanted to spend time with me. Somebody appreciated me for who I really was, without any disguises or façades or pretences. That’s a kind of feeling that’s hard to find these days.

“For the next few months, I was content with collaborating on an exhibition during the weekdays and spending my weekends with Will. We’d sometimes take weekend trips to the beach, or visit family. Things were finally looking up. My future seemed endless.

“As you can probably tell yet again, this is where the story changes.”

Dan paused suddenly, biting his lip.

“Dan, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Phil murmured.

“You deserve to know,” Dan countered, exhaling before diving back into the story. “So, as I was saying, this is where the story changes.”

“Will and I had nearly been together for a year. It passed by so quickly. I was happy in my professional and my personal lives, and things were stable. We’d planned another weekend trip away to celebrate our one-year anniversary. It wasn’t anything extravagant by any means, just a hotel in the countryside. A safe haven, I suppose. Somewhere to get away from the hustle and bustle of London.

“It was better than I could have imagined. The hotel was stunning, the food was incredible and the views – the views were beyond anything I’ve ever seen. I drew on them as inspiration for the next exhibition I did, actually.

“The car journey back was when things started turning sour. He started talking about settling down, moving in together, even possible marriage in the next couple of months. I didn’t say anything at the time because I was scared, but I wasn’t ready for any of that. My career was just getting in the right direction. I was too young to settle down.

“When I eventually told him that, he suddenly became so… cold. His whole demeanour changed. He started hurling all these accusations at me. It was all, ‘you don’t love me anymore!’ or ‘you’ve been using me!’ or ‘I’m just a side fling, then?’. I couldn’t take it. I tried to tell him that I still wanted to be with him, but he wasn’t having it.”

Dan stopped again, as if his throat was closing up. He was visibly shaking with the concentration it was taking not to cry. Phil felt strangely helpless watching him break down.

“He ended it on the spot and told me to leave before he got aggressive. I’d never seen him like that the whole time I’d known him. It was terrifying. I had the next week off work because I couldn’t bear seeing his face again.

“And then one night he called me and asked if he could come over. He was drunk and didn’t know where to go. I eventually said yes. When he arrived, he was a mess. He just sat on my sofa and started blurting about how he missed me. I told him he was drunk, that he shouldn’t be telling me stuff he’d regret the next morning. His response was to kiss me.

“It was so wrong. He reeked of alcohol and he was forceful and I felt suffocated. I pulled away as soon as I could and asked him to leave, but he became distraught. I asked him to leave again more forcefully and he punched me.

“I just remember sitting on the floor with blood dripping my nose. As soon as he’d seen what he’d done, he left without saying anything. That night, I vowed to myself to break it off for good. So that’s what I did.

“The next time we saw each other, we agreed to stay out of each other’s way for a while to let things cool down. In the end, it was mutual. Things weren’t as perfect as I thought they’d been, and that’s okay. I channelled my energy into my work and it paid off.

“Then the work party happened. That’s where you come into the story. I’d been dreading it so much because we still work in the same building. I arrived early to grab a drink and find somewhere to hide. Claire said she’d be on guard if he turned up. I don’t know if you’ve ever met Claire, but she is one badass woman.

“I grabbed a daiquiri and went onto the terrace and basically avoided all human contact as best as I could. It was all going so well. Then I heard him say my name and I… I panicked.

“Panic is such an irrational thing. My therapist always tells me that. I know it is, but I just froze. I’d told Claire I could be civil, but seeing him again reminded me of everything I’d felt when I was with him. It was bittersweet.

“I was as polite as I could be, but he seemed off. He said he missed me, that we had so much that was wasted. The only thing that was wasted was him.”

He laughed humourlessly at his own joke, his knee jittering ever so slightly.

“I said we could still be friends, but anything more than that was too much. He tried to convince me, but I was tired. I was so tired of the back and forth of a relationship with him – how it was smooth sailing, then suddenly we’d become shipwrecked in the blink of an eye. I said no. I guess that wasn’t the answer he was looking for.

“He asked if we could kiss one final time, so he could know for sure if things were over. I politely declined, but he threw himself onto me. It was the same kind of kiss as the one the night he’d punched me. I tried to pull away, but he had a hand on the back of my neck. He wasn’t letting me go anywhere, and I had no idea why.

“And then – then you showed up at the worst moment possible. I finally got Will off me, only to see you right in front of me, having just witnessed everything. I’ve never felt so terrible.

“Then you ran away so quickly and in the heat of the moment I slapped Will and chased after you. It all happened so fast. I caught up to you at the lift and we left things on a bad note. When you’d gone, I stayed outside the party and kept trying to call you. You didn’t reply to anything. I don’t know what I expected.”

“I…” Phil replied. “I’m sorry about the way I handled that. I was in shock.”

“I was freaking out,” Dan said. “You were supposed to fly to Paris the next day. It was such a blur. I was tempted to go to the hotel and beg you to let me in, but I refrained. I spent a couple of days processing the situation, then I called PJ.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Dan grinned sheepishly. “He has you on Find My Friend, so I just-”

“Sorry, what?”

“Did he never tell you that?”

“I didn’t realise it was a thing.”

“Yeah.” The blush on Dan’s cheeks darkened.

“So you - you knew my exact location this entire time with the help of PJ?”

“Pretty much.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he muttered.

As much as he wanted to remain neutral, his heart had started fluttering again, in a way that it did only around Dan. Dan’s story was a massive relief; the kiss wasn’t consensual like he’d said. It had all been a petty misunderstanding, one that made him roll his eyes with the sheer stupidity of it.

“I’m stubborn when I want to be,” Dan countered. “I wasn’t going to let everything slip away that easily.”

“Neither was I, but still – really? Flying to Paris and tracking me down with the help of my best friend? That’s more than just stubborn.”

“Fine,” Dan admitted. “Things worked out okay in the end, though. At least, I hope that’s what you’re thinking too.”

“It is,” Phil reassured him. “I just have one question.”

“Go for it.”

“Why didn’t you let Will kiss you one last time?”

Dan gazed over at Phil with a curious look on his face.

“He isn’t you.”

In a matter of seconds, Phil was closing the gap between him and throwing his arms around Dan’s neck. Dan just as quickly wound his arms around Phil’s back, the warmth radiating off him. They sat cradled in each other, the relief and elation palpable.

As they pulled away from each other, Phil’s eyes danced over Dan’s face. Up close, he truly was gorgeous. Phil couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have him back in his life. His eyes flickered over Dan’s lips, and he knew they both had the same thought.

Kissing Dan made Phil feel indescribable things. There was comfort in his feelings being reciprocated and uncertainty of how far things would go, but more than anything, there was the knowledge that they’d chosen each other above anyone.

Dan pressed their foreheads together and laughed softly.

“Mind if I stay here a while?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so things are looking up again how sweet
> 
> i'll hopefully be able to update this on a more regular basis lmao. sorry i'm so flaky with uploading i honestly don't mean to be
> 
> anyway! thank u so much for reading and i'll see u soon :')


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's good!
> 
> not to spoil anything too much but i hope u all have a bible nearby lmao. i hope u enjoy <3

Ever since that night, it was safe to say they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Whether it was soft, sleep-filled looks, letting their hands brush together or morning breath kisses that made his nose wrinkle, Phil was completely and utterly infatuated.

Dan was too.

That very realisation had thrown him into a whole new way of seeing things. Any doubts that rose in his mind disappeared as quickly as they appeared, and even then, Dan was going out of his way to prove to Phil that he was trustworthy.

Every time they did something, Dan asked whether Phil was okay with him doing it. If Phil wasn’t so besotted with him, it would have been borderline annoying. On the other hand, the fact that Dan cared about his consent was something he thought about a lot.

The day after everything had happened, Dan had checked out of the hotel he’d booked and moved into Phil’s room. Phil’s room had a double bed with both sides made already, so it didn’t seem like too much of an inconvenience. If anything, the hotel got more money.

Another advantage was getting to wake up to Dan’s face every morning. When the inevitable flight back happened, they’d be separated again for an indefinite amount of time, so every minute with him here counted. Feeling Dan in his arms (finally) made the future slowly melt away.

“Mornin’,” Dan mumbled, rolling over and lazily kissing him.

“You’re in a good mood,” Phil commented, a light blush spreading over his cheeks. Dan was all his, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe that.

“Why aren’t you?” he countered. “We’re in Paris. Let’s make the most of it.”

“But it’s so cosy here.”

Dan gave in. “Fine. But then we’re doing something. I want to make today as perfect as possible.”

“Okay then. What’s first on the agenda?”

“Hm.” He paused. “The first stop on Dan and Phil’s super fun amazing adventure around Paris should be The Louvre.”

“I… I’ve already been there.”

“I know.”

“What? How did-”

“That was also Find My Friend,” Dan confessed, his tone sheepish. “I was going to surprise you, but that felt wrong. Then you ran out.”

Looking back, Phil remembered that day well. He’d felt so empty, so unsure of what to do. Running out was the only thing he could have done in that moment, when he was full to the point of bursting. A twinge of embarrassment coursed through him.

“You saw that?”

“Yeah.”

“Great. Moving on. The Louvre. Then what?”

“You sound like a horny straight boy,” Dan replied. “Then… we grab dinner somewhere nice and call it a day.”

“Where would we eat?”

“Some cute place on a side street. Nothing massively fancy, I don’t reckon.”

“My readers would like that,” Phil mused.

“See? Killing two birds with one stone. You get a romantic dinner date with yours truly and quality content for your spread.”

Phil nearly choked on air.

“Say that again?”

“You heard it well enough the first time,” Dan hummed, kissing his forehead before rolling over in the other direction. “It’s been five minutes.”

“Already?”

“Yes, already. Please. I know art isn’t really your thing, but I’ll try to make it enjoyable.”

“I know you will.”

-

_Here we go again_ , Phil thought as he stood before The Louvre for the second time in a week. It was still as beautiful, and if anything, it looked prettier with a certain someone admiring it. Seeing the world reflected through another person’s eyes held a rare sense of wonder that was hard to find.

“Never gets old,” Dan sighed. “Let’s go.”

Slinging an arm around Phil’s shoulder, Dan led him inside. From there, Phil was happy to let Dan drag him around and ramble about various art pieces. His voice was just as smooth and liltingly southern as it was the first time they spoke to each other over the phone.

When Phil saw the number of people slowly increase, he turned to Dan with a puzzled look on his face.

“The Mona Lisa,” Dan explained. “Arguably one of the best paintings ever done. Leonardo da Vinci was so endlessly talented.”

“Is it bad to say I prefer DiCaprio?”

Dan gasped. “You absolute monster. Take that back.”

“He was hot in Titanic!”

“He was,” Dan gave in, “but still. You’re trying to compare two types of art forms that shouldn’t be compared.”

Phil chuckled. “Okay.”

“Hm.” Dan paused. “Take my hand.”

“Why?”

“There’s lots of people. I don’t want us to get separated.”

“Sure.”

Holding Dan’s hand made Phil think about how they were possibly made for each other. In a way, it reminded him of a puzzle; there were multiple pieces that could fit together if you forced them to, but only two pieces would fit together perfectly.

A thought popped into his head. Since there were too many people around, and the thought he’d had was one he wanted Dan to remember, he kept his mouth shut and tried to squeeze through hordes of people to get a glimpse at the Mona Lisa.

Dan inhaled sharply all of a sudden.

“Can you see it?”

“Holy shit,” he whispered, ducking past a few heads to try to see it more clearly. “It’s even better in person.”

“You’ve never seen it before?”

“Surprisingly, no,” Dan replied. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for years.”

“Make the most of it.”

It took Dan a solid 30 minutes to recover. After wading through a sea of faces and tangled limbs, they’d sat on a bench. Dan had looked at Phil with his eyes glassy and smiled so radiantly that Phil momentarily lost himself.

When people were looking away, he cupped Dan’s face and kissed him tenderly. It was brief, but blissfully sweet. Gazing at the art around him, Phil thought to himself that the man beside him would fit in with ease.

Thought it took significantly longer for Dan to be finished than Phil, they finally agreed to leave the Louvre in search of somewhere to eat. Night was drawing in, with streetlights illuminating roads rainbowed with oil and faint music streaming out of cars that drove by.

Just as Dan had suggested, they saw a sign for a bistro down a small side street and decided to have a look. It was just as quaint as he had anticipated, with small wooden tables and walls hung with a collection of posters and old photos. At the back stood a man, who upon seeing them rushed forward.

“ _Combien de personnes_?” the man asked.

“ _Deux, s’il vous plait_ ,” Dan replied smoothly.

When they’d been led to a table and were seated, Phil looked at Dan with surprise evident on his face.

“I didn’t know you knew French,” he began.

“It’s fairly basic,” Dan replied, laughing. “Enough to get us a meal, anyway. What d’you fancy?”

Glancing over the menu, Phil zeroed in on a meal he recognised and settled for it.

“I’ll have the beef, I think. What about you?”

“That was quick,” Dan commented. “I’ll have… the _cassoulet_ , I think. It sounds good.”

“Alright.”

When the waiter returned, Dan ordered for both of them (much to Phil’s happiness) and ordered a bottle of something for the side. Moments later, the waiter had brought a bottle of what looked like red wine to their table.

Taking a sip, Phil noticed the subtle rich undertones of the drink and swallowed it down contentedly.

“This is so good.”

“Steady on,” Dan replied. “Don’t want you tipsy before the food’s arrived.”

“I’m not that much of a lightweight,” Phil grumbled. “Besides, who’s stopping me from getting completely off my face on nice tasting French wine?”

“I am. I said this was going to be a day to remember. If you wake up tomorrow morning with most of your memory tainted, then this’ll all be for nothing.”

Phil stopped. Dan had said he wanted the two of them to remember this day. In his head, he hypothesised a couple of possible reasons why, but none of them seemed plausible. Maybe he was reading too much into it. Maybe Dan just wanted to have a memorable day for the sake of having a memorable day.

“Fine. The things you make me do.”

Dan almost spat out his wine.

“The things _I_ make you do? You weren’t the one who dropped everything and flew to another country on the off chance that you’d bump into the person you’d screwed over to try to make things better!”

“Fair point,” Phil replied. “We’ve done some stupid shit. But it proved to be worth it, right? We’re here now, and today’s been amazing so far.”

“It has. It’s all been worth it.”

They were oddly silent after that point. They kept catching each other’s eyes, as if they were trying to silently communicate something Phil couldn’t put a finger on. The combination of the pleasant warmth and the slightly dimmed lights making Dan’s skin glow had set him on edge.

Then their food came. Even as they received it, Dan simply smiled before tucking in. Phil followed suit, and had to hold back from moaning at how delicious his beef was. It was perfectly cooked, to the point where he didn’t even have to cut it for it to fall off the bone and melt in his mouth. A deep and rich sauce had been poured over it, which was well seasoned and all kinds of incredible.

Even as they finished eating, the two of them were silent. Ever so often, Dan would gaze at him with an indiscernible look on his face. Phil would feel his cheeks heating up and avert his eyes.

Then their plates were taken and the food was paid for and they made their way out of the restaurant. The silence had stretched on for longer than Phil had realised, but it was a comfortable silence, one that wasn’t felt but simply acknowledged.

The restaurant was a comfortable distance away from Phil’s hotel. As they walked, Phil’s ears rang with the buzzing of cars and passers-by and the eerie silence from Dan. The closer they got to the hotel, the more confused he became.

All too soon, they were back at the hotel. When they’d finally made it to their room (their room – that never got old), Phil closed the door and looked at Dan.

Dan was close to him, close enough that he could see how widely dilated his pupils were.

“You know what?”

“What?” Phil replied, feeling his breathing become more rapid.

“I don't think I'm ready to call it a day.”

Their lips collided with enough force to push Phil against the wall. This was different from any time they’d kissed before; before, it was gentle yet passionate. Now it was laced with full-blown hunger, hunger that Phil only multiplied.

As soon as their lips met, Dan ripped his away, kissing his cheeks and nose and forehead before slowly working his way down.

“Dan,” he whispered, weaving his fingers through his hair. Dan kissed down his neck before kissing his lips once more. “The bed.”

Phil was off the wall in seconds and back on Dan’s mouth, feeling a knot begin to form in his stomach. As they delved deeper into each other, Dan gently moved Phil backwards until he felt his calves hit the edge of the bed.

He flopped down onto it before Dan all but pounced on top of him, holding himself above Phil on his forearms. His lips latched onto Phil’s neck, and he could tell that there would be marks there the next day. The thought of it made him tingle with nervous excitement.

Dan’s hands worked their way down to the hem of Phil’s shirt before he stopped. He looked up at him, as if to say _are you sure_? and Phil nodded immediately. Like a wave, his desire had broken through the dam he’d hidden it in and was now spilling out everywhere. It wasn’t even want anymore – it was need.

Dan pulled Phil’s shirt over his head like he was unwrapping a present. Moments later, he peeled his own shirt off before bringing their lips back together.

Phil hadn’t been this intimate with anyone for years. It was sweet and sinful and sinuous all at the same time, with hands in hair and skin on skin and mouth feverishly pressed to mouth. He felt like he was simultaneously floating and drowning.

Dan tore his lips away again and started kissing down his neck and chest and stomach until he stopped. Phil could feel his breath tickle his stomach and a shiver ran down his spine.

“May I?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

“Be my guest.”

In a flash, Phil’s belt was unbuckled and he was wriggling out his jeans. When they were down far enough, he pulled them off and discarded them. Now the only piece of clothing he was wearing was his boxers, but with the way Dan was looking at him, he figured they wouldn’t be on for much longer.

With Phil watching, Dan unbuckled his own belt and slowly slid down his jeans. Phil sighed. He had smooth, slightly tanned skin, and collarbones so prominent he could barely keep his hands off them.

Then he went lower still, kissing up his thigh at an almost torturous pace. Leaning down, Phil grabbed Dan’s hand and placed it over his boxers, exhaling sharply at the contact. Dan palmed him roughly through the thin fabric before slipping a finger under the waistband.

More fingers followed until Dan slowly but surely worked Phil’s boxers down his legs until they were at his ankles. He bit his lip almost tentatively, and Phil nearly came on the spot.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Dan murmured, before wrapping his fingers around his length. Phil's breathing hitched. As he pumped his hand up and down, he crawled back up to Phil’s face and pressed their noses together.

Their lips were so close yet so far apart, but the two of them were so breathless that they ended up breathing into each other’s mouths. In any other situation, he would have been bemused, but Dan was unbelievable and his insides were growing tighter and he couldn’t think straight.

After pecking his lips, Dan made his way down. At first, he was cautious, kissing up the sides, but when he finally wrapped his lips around Phil’s cock, a moan slipped from his mouth.

Dan clearly knew what he was doing. Every touch, every move he made was enough to send Phil into overdrive. The knot in his stomach was on the verge of snapping. With Dan’s mouth and hands working utter magic, Phil dug his fingernails into the sheets and arched his back slightly.

“I… I’m close.”

From then on, Dan sped up until Phil eventually spilled, breathing deeply. Wiping his mouth, he pressed their bodies together and kissed him once again. This time, after a short while it was Phil who pulled away.

“My turn.”

It was safe to say Phil was slightly less experienced than Dan. Having him lie down and watch everything he did was intimidating, but it seemed as if his silent trepidation turned him on. His kisses were slower and more languid, his strokes softer.

“That’s… you’re – fuck, you’re good,” he groaned. “Keep it like that. Please.”

Feeling buoyed up by Dan’s words, Phil continued bobbing up and down, alternating his mouth with his hands to the best of his abilities. As Dan’s breathing became shallower and quicker, he figured whatever he was doing was doing the trick.

“Nearly… there.”

Moments later, Phil bobbed up in time for Dan to shake and spill all over his stomach. Laughing breathlessly, he flopped backwards and pressed his face into a pillow.

“That was unbelievable,” he panted.

“Glad you think so,” Phil murmured in reply, smiling to himself. “You made a bit of a mess, though.”

“Shut up,” Dan retorted. “I can clean it up with toilet roll or something.”

Rolling off the bed, Dan padded to the bathroom still fully naked. Phil watched him walking, in awe at how every single inch of him was beyond gorgeous.

“Stop staring,” he added. Phil felt heat spread up the back of his neck.

Upon Dan’s return, he pecked Phil’s lips before wiping the mess he’d made off his stomach. A tiny bit had landed on Phil’s face, which he cleaned off with the pads of his thumbs. Then the duvet was pulled back and the two of them crawled underneath it.

With Dan’s head on his chest and his arms around him, Phil stared at the ceiling and remembered a thought he’d had earlier. It had been at the Louvre, with innumerable voices and faces and cameras clicking. His hand was clinging onto Dan’s, and he’d had a thought so startling and so potent that he didn’t quite know what to do with it.

Reflecting on it, the thought made perfect sense. There were endless books and films with cheesy protagonists who spewed bullshit about finding ‘the one’. This wasn’t like that. It was more subtle and understated, but it described them perfectly.

“Dan?” he asked quietly, almost to himself. His thumb was tracing endless circles on Dan’s shoulder, his heart beating out of his chest. He wondered if Dan could hear it.

“Yeah?”

“I realised something earlier.”

“What did you realise?”

“Well, I… I was thinking about everything we’ve been through in such a short amount of time and – how everything just slotted together so perfectly. It made me think about us.”

“Yeah.”

“And I’d been trying for a while to pinpoint what being with you felt like and it sort of just came together right now.”

Dan chuckled softly, but Phil could feel his heartbeat quickening ever so slightly. “Go on.”

“It’s like the whole world is a puzzle, and it happens that we’re two pieces that fit together. Like… like a jigsaw falling into place.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh yeah. i did that. they did that. they Really did that
> 
> thank u so much for the continued support and i'll see u again soon !! :')


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! it's been too long! i'm sorry! forgive me!
> 
> anyway i hope u enjoy <3

Euphoria was one way of putting it. But in itself, wasn’t euphoria just a clichéd and overused term? Phil was too tired to process what he was thinking. The previous night’s activities had undoubtedly worn him out.

Speaking his thoughts out loud felt refreshing, and the look on Dan’s face only solidified what he felt. In the darkness with moonlight highlighting his eyelashes, he’d smiled blearily. Night time was his most vulnerable state, where he could strip back any façades he put on for the world to see. Night time was when Dan could be the most imperfect version of himself and Phil would still love him just the same.

Later, when he heard soft snores coming from beside him, he let his fingertips trickle over the bridge of Dan’s nose, his jaw, his collarbone. He allowed himself to whisper, hushed and for his ears only, “I won’t let you slip through my fingers again.”

Morning came and went, and just like that, the days he spent with Dan in Paris blurred together until he found himself packing his things away to go home. Each moment was filled with exploring somewhere new, or capturing new memories. For a trip that had begun on such a bitter note, it had turned out to be one of the most enjoyable of his life.

His suitcase was a mess, which he’d anticipated. Some clothes were folded, but the majority were crumpled heaps. As he was about to aimlessly shove another hoodie inside, he stopped and looked at it.

From the bed, Dan made a noncommittal noise. With the hoodie in his hands, Phil stood up and perched on one end.

“You’re going to have to get up at some point to pack,” he murmured, glancing over at him.

Dan groaned. “I packed last night.”

Phil rolled his eyes. “Of course you did.”

“Excuse me for being organised. Our flight’s this afternoon, for fuck’s sake.”

“Yeah. This afternoon. I still have time. You could help me if you wanted to.”

“But it’s so cosy here, and I...”

“You...?”

“May or may not have packed too many clothes and forgotten to set aside something to wear for today.”

Phil chuckled. “You absolute knob. Take this hoodie.”

As he threw the hoodie to Dan, he realised it was one of his favourite hoodies. It was plain blue, with a small logo on the front, but it was impossibly soft and perfect for winter nights. It also happened that Dan looked beautiful in it.

“I’ve worn this before,” Dan mentioned, sliding it over his head. “Back when I had your case and you had mine.”

“That feels like a lifetime ago.”

“Time flies.”

Laughing, Dan eventually crawled out from under the covers, sporting Phil’s hoodie and a pair of boxers. When he saw where Phil’s gaze was directed, he rolled his eyes.

“Stop staring or I won’t help you.”

-

Airports were never the nicest place to be. Even in some of the most well-maintained ones on the planet, there was always a strange feel to them; everyone around you was trapped inbetween somewhere and somewhere else, stuck in a strange limbo of nearly-there.

Sitting in one of the lounges, Phil lazily munched on a sandwich as Dan searched for free wifi that actually worked. Since Dan’s job involved him keeping up to date on current affairs and what was desirable to look at, Phil couldn’t really complain.

They had a small while until their flight began boarding, time that they were both content filling with each other. They’d already looked around the few shops the airport had to offer, but neither of them were particularly interested in duty free tobacco or cheap replicas of the Eiffel Tower.

What had caught Phil’s attention was a food shop. Looking around, it offered every flavour of sandwich he could ever dream of. After taking too long to decide, he opted for a classic ham and cheese baguette. Dan, being Dan, had tutted at Phil giving into tourism. Phil had flipped him off.

“God, if you’re listening, I love you,” Dan murmured suddenly.

Phil snorted. “Did you find wifi?”

“You bet I did.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I prefer the term ‘modern.’”

Lightly smacking his arm, Phil returned to eating his sandwich and people watching. In any airport, there was guaranteed to be a family with young children. The parents would look tired out of their minds as the children toddled around. Kids were adorable, but they were high maintenance.

Once Phil had finished his sandwich, a thought popped into his mind.

“Dan?”

“Hm?”

“When we get back to London.”

“What about it?”

“I checked and there aren’t any trains from London to Manchester this evening.”

“How devastating,” Dan replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You can stay at my place for the night. Or as long as you want, really.”

“I don’t want to outstay my welcome.”

“Considering how I ended up sharing your hotel room for a week, I don’t think that’s possible.”

Overhead, a voice sounded. “This is the first call for passengers on British Airways flight BA323 to London. Please proceed to gate 8.”

“Finally,” Phil said.

“I was beginning to think you’d go and get another baguette,” Dan chuckled, pocketing his phone. “Let’s go.”

The two of them made their way through the gate and along a corridor until they came to the tunnel connecting the plane to the airport. As they walked along it, their footsteps made echoes that reverberated around them.

Soon enough, they’d entered the plane and made themselves comfortable in their seats. The flight they’d booked seemed on the emptier side, and Phil was silently optimistic that they wouldn’t have anyone sitting next to them. Dan was in the window seat and he was snuggled against him. Having someone on his other side would dampen the moment.

“Phil?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for Paris. It was beyond anything I could have prepared for.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Phil replied, smiling slightly. “It was amazing.”

“It really was. And I’m not just saying that because of a certain night.”

“Don’t forget the almost-shower incident.”

“We’ll have to resume that at some point,” Dan murmured.

“There are children!”

“So? They’re too young to understand.”

“You have a point,” Phil whispered. “But still. Don’t get me worked up on a plane with other people around. That won’t go down well.”

“Fine,” Dan grumbled. “Later, though. This isn’t over.”

At that point, Phil decided to put his headphones on and tune Dan out. The flight was only half an hour, ample time for Dan to control himself and Phil to listen to some albums he’d downloaded. In hindsight, trying to listen to music on a plane was never quite the same, with the low thrum of noise constantly surrounding him, but he was too stubborn to admit that to himself.

When his headphones were on, his surroundings were considerably more muted. While it was welcome respite from the neverending stream of noise that flooded into his ears, in a way, it forced him to look inwards rather than outwards.

Glancing around, his situation sunk in. Other times, he’d realised how lucky he was to find someone like Dan, and how his feelings had been reciprocated. This time, it properly hit home how he’d never been so utterly content in all his life.

Sure, life would separate them for a short while. The two pieces of the puzzle would split apart indefinitely. But even though you can separate puzzle pieces, you can’t change the fact that those two pieces are meant to fit together.

Dan would be in London working on an exhibition and Phil would be up in Manchester working on his spread, but they still belonged together. One person’s eyes would light up at the sight of a new idea sprouting from a seed of nothingness as the other’s eyes would glaze over at the sight of words blinking back at him from a screen, but nestled in the corners of their minds would be the ever-present longing.

Phil’s mind didn’t stop there. He was already in too deep, but his thoughts were welling up, spilling over the surface. His feet were in metaphorical quick sand; sinking, but in a way that was oddly calming.

Of course they were puzzle pieces. There was no better way to describe it. Their hands interlaced perfectly. Phil’s head could nestle under Dan’s chin with ease. Whatever jagged edges he had, Dan had ones that matched his perfectly.

His eyes fluttered shut, content with drowning in a whirlpool of emotions. He let his chest rise and fall as steadily as everything ebbed and flowed inside him. Breath filled and filtered out of his lungs as blood coursed in his veins. Every seemingly simple sensation was heightened, and all because of one person.

That person happened to be talking to him at that point in time.

“Look.”

Gazing past Dan, Phil let out a low whistle.

From above, London by night was stunning. It was even more stunning looking at it through the eyes of the man he loved. Leaning his head on Dan’s shoulder, he exhaled deeply and soaked in the view.

“Is it just me or are you getting a strange sense of déjà vu?” he murmured.

“I am too,” Phil replied, remembering the night everything had unravelled. He’d never been able to handle landings on flights, and he’d been so occupied with trying to keep calm that he’d forgotten to pack his headphones in his bag.

Then the text from PJ had come through. With barely enough time to get off the flight and get to the taxi, he’d left his headphones behind. A mixture of stress and being serially unfit meant he took a stupid amount of time to retrieve them.

As it turned out, the worst of his troubles were yet to come, in the form of a navy suitcase that didn’t belong to him. Though PJ had found it particularly amusing, he’d wanted to tear his hair out. Situations like those were ones he increasingly found himself in, for better or for worse.

In a way, being unlucky made Phil lucky. When things didn’t turn out like he expected them to, it felt like life was giving him an opportunity to take control. Taking Dan’s suitcase had allowed him to meet Dan in the first place, a metaphorical push to determine his fate.

“It’s been a wild ride,” Dan mused.

“We’re not about to die,” Phil deadpanned. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I have a right to.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean! We’re going to get off this flight and at some point or another you’ll have to go all the way up to Manchester. That’s 200 miles away from London.”

Phil’s heart sunk. As much as he’d tried to avoid thinking about what lay ahead, he was forced to confront it. Sure, he could stay the night at Dan’s apartment, but after that he had to return to Manchester. He hadn’t gone to so many different cities and put in hours of work for nothing. The spread needed to get submitted to his boss in the next couple of weeks or he risked losing his job.

“We’ll figure something out,” he reassured him. “You can text or skype me whenever. It’s not like we aren’t going to be able to see each other in some shape or form.”

“I know,” Dan replied. “It just won’t be the same, that’s all. You know I don’t expect you to uproot everything for me. I don’t either.”

“If I could, I would,” Phil sighed. “Let me get this spread finished and we can figure something out from there. In the meantime, we can enjoy the time we have together.”

“Look who’s being dramatic now.”

“Shut up.”

Dan pecked Phil’s forehead. “We’re as bad as each other.”

There was a lull in the conversation as they watched the London skyline drawing ever closer. The familiarity of it was something Phil had adjusted to over time, but with Dan’s pulse throbbing near his ear, it felt unfamiliar suddenly. Sometimes all it took was one person to enter your life to change everything.

As the captain announced that the plane would be landing soon, Phil’s breathing increased. Glancing over at him, Dan had worry etched into his face.

“You alright?”

“I... not really. The landings are always the worst.”

Dan took his hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “You’re officially not allowed to let go until the plane’s landed.”

“Fine,” he replied, mustering a shaky smile.

The next couple of moments were spent with Phil trying to focus on keeping his breathing steady and Dan rubbing circles on the back of his hand. When the plane’s wheels finally hit the ground, Phil realised how tightly he’d been gripping Dan’s hand and let go, his cheeks slightly flushed.

Just like all the times before, Phil grabbed his suitcase and made his way off the plane, making sure he actually had his own case and that Dan was still by his side. Once they’d made it past the baggage carousel, he stopped suddenly.

“This was the exact place it happened the first time,” he mused. “You know your case has a squeaky wheel?”

Dan laughed. “I’ve had that for years. It’s one of the only ways of knowing it’s mine.”

“You have a nametag too,” Phil pointed out.

“Thank fuck I do,” he replied. “It pays to be prepared.”

Phil didn’t have it in him to disagree. Walking past the baggage carousel, they made their way towards where people were waiting and waved at the man holding a sign with Dan’s name on it.

As they walked out of the airport building, he saw it was getting darker. Slowly but surely, the sky transformed from a creamy orange expanse to neverending velvety bleakness. The bleakness was punctuated with the London skyline – curtains of light tumbling from doors left ajar mingled with faint wisps of clouds.

Getting in a taxi with Dan made memories of their numerous taxi journeys together come flooding back. Even the slightest thing caused nostalgia to rush back – Dan’s profile against the car window, the way their legs brushed together, all of it.

While there was constant nostalgia and déjà vu, there was also underlying excitement at the prospect of new beginnings. Sooner or later, Phil was fairly certain he’d move down from Manchester to be with Dan, and from there, the possibilities seemed endless.

He’d have to move his things in, say goodbye to his dingy flat and tired old way of life. He’d be able to finally replace skype sessions with PJ with spending more time with him. The more he thought about it, the more enthusiastic he became.

“What are you thinking about?”

Looking up, Phil realised the taxi was stuck in a traffic jam.

“What happens next,” he responded.

“You seem oddly calm about it,” Dan commented, the corner of his mouth turned up slightly.

“I am. I’ve... decided a few things.”

“Like what?”

“I think I’m going to move to London.”

Dan’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

“Yes!” he reassured him. “It makes sense. London has better work opportunities for someone like me, it has PJ and Chris and a bunch of other friends who I’d love to reconnect with, there’s endless things to do – oh, and there’s you, I guess.”

“I hate you,” Dan grumbled. “But that sounds amazing. I don’t mind waiting a year.”

“A year?” Phil scoffed. “The sooner I leave the better. Obviously I need to finish the spread, but after that I’m handing in my resignation letter.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

After waiting in traffic for what felt like a small eternity, the taxi finally stopped outside Dan’s apartment building. When their suitcases had been retrieved and the driver had been paid, they made their way inside.

Though Dan’s apartment was slightly dustier and messier than he remembered it, it was still just as sleek and beautiful. He still had walls filled with art, almost-too-modern furniture and some nice white lighting to tie everything together.

“You can dump your case in my room,” he said offhandedly, wandering into his kitchen. “Is pizza okay? I have a couple in the freezer.”

“Pizza’s fine,” Phil called back, his heart swelling infinitesimally.

Once he’d left his case in one corner of Dan’s room, he decided to snoop into Dan’s bathroom one more time. When he saw the shower was big enough for at least two people, he smiled to himself before going to find Dan with the pizza.

As he approached the dining table, he saw it had already been laid. A steaming plate of pizza sat in the middle, surrounded by an unopened bottle of wine and some plates. Moments later, Dan turned the corner and flashed a dazzling grin.

“Only had pepperoni,” he muttered. “Not the best, but it’ll do.”

Taking a bite out of a slice, Phil figured it was miles better than ‘not the best’ and wolfed it down gratefully.

“Are you kidding?” he replied. “This is so good.”

“If you say so. I’m more of a fan of a classic margherita.”

“You’re dumb.”

“Shut up.”

The fatigue was palpable as they polished off the pizza in silence. Even though the wine bottle had now been opened, Phil didn’t feel like having more than a glass. He was already a mess – having any alcohol would only make things worse.

“I have a question.” Dan began pointedly.

“Hit me.”

“Would you like to be my boyfriend?”

Any fatigue that Phil had felt was instantly vanquished. It felt like someone had short circuited his nerves, or poured a bucket of ice water over his head. His mind momentarily clouded over. Had those words really just come from Dan’s mouth?

The question was inevitable, but it still came as a shock. In a way, Phil was almost angry that he didn’t get the opportunity to ask Dan first. It hadn’t been a long time coming, but with the two of them softened with tiredness and wine and the dim glow of Dan’s kitchen lights, it was the perfect opportunity.

Reaching across the table, he grabbed Dan’s hand and smiled the most genuine smile he could possibly muster.

“I’d love to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can u tell i've completely forgotten how to write these again lmao
> 
> so. they're Finally together what a surprise
> 
> also so you're aware this'll probably end up having more than 18 chapters bc i love being a hot mess of an author who can't make basic decisions about the fics she writes haha x
> 
> regardless thank u for reading !! i'll see u all soon with another chapter :')


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! it's been far too long i'm so sorry :( school's been super hectic but i hit 10k on tumblr today so i thought i'd post this as a small way of saying thank you <3
> 
> i hope u enjoy !!

For most of his life, Manchester had been Phil’s home. Whenever he returned to it, he'd soak in the familiar sight of the train station and feel comforted. He’d walked along the platform countless times over the years, passed by shops which had evolved and changed with him.

A crisp wind greeted him as soon as the train doors opened in front of him. Stepping off, he heaved his suitcase behind him in the direction of the nearest Starbucks. When he was tired and his emotions were frayed around the edges, caffeine took on almost medicinal qualities.

Waking up that morning was painful. Dan’s head was pressed against Phil’s hair, his breath warm on his neck. Dan’s bed was unbelievably comfortable, with a borderline crazy number of pillows and a soft duvet enveloping them. At that moment, Phil wished time could stop.

Then Dan stirred, and if it was even possible, he snuggled in closer, dropping a chaste kiss on Phil’s shoulder. It was sleepy and syrupy sweet and gone all too soon – just like he’d be gone too soon.

The next thing he knew was holding back tears and feeling Dan’s arms around him, silently saying _you’ll be alright._ In theory he knew he would, but he was unsteady. When he was with Dan, he became more than himself – brighter and happier. Just as everything had begun flowing so smoothly, life got inbetween.

Sitting on the train, he was affronted by thoughts of what was to come. They didn’t need to be apart to realise how much they wanted to spend time with each other, but in a strange way, Phil enjoyed the anticipation. He knew where his life was headed, and for the meantime he was content with working towards it.

Cradling a mug of coffee, he made his way to his apartment. For once, the weather in Manchester wasn’t awful; the sky was awash with sombre clouds, but it was still dry and bright. On the journey there, he remembered all the sights he often passed by on his way to work and smiled. It felt like a small eternity since he’d last walked along here.

After a routine day of work, Phil would leave his office with his patience and energy wearing thin. When he opened his front door and saw his apartment in front of him, he would realise it was worth it. He’d worked hard to get it and it satisfied his every need.

Standing in front of it, with one hand resting on his suitcase and the other brandishing his keys, he didn’t feel the same sense of contentment he’d once felt towards it. He frowned. Maybe he needed a nap. Maybe he wished Dan was with him. Maybe it was a combination of the two.

It had been a while since he’d been able to crash on his own sofa wrapped in a duvet and watch some shitty reality TV. He’d been away for so long that it felt almost odd being back in the place he called home; he no longer had to live out of a suitcase, or rely on anyone else for anything if he didn’t want to.

There was only one problem.

Jeremy Kyle was entertaining to an extent, but after a while he found himself getting bored with the endless lie detector tests. Turning off the TV, he flopped backwards and gazed around.

Everything had been left as he’d remembered it. He didn’t have quite as much memorabilia as PJ, but he still had a bookshelf full of video games nestled in one corner of his living room, complete with a few boxsets and photo frames. Glancing over, all the photos seemed outdated, filled with memories of friends he hadn’t spoken to in years.

Wandering into the kitchen, he saw where dust had collected and swiped it off with his finger. It wasn’t untidy, but it paled in comparison to Dan’s with its worn appliances and lack of space. There was less of a homely feel to it; everything did what it was supposed to, but it still felt incomplete.

The more he looked around, the more Phil wondered whether his apartment satisfied his every need anymore. Sure, it had lasted well over the years – it had seen him through the darkest struggles of journalism and periods of depressive isolation, but it wasn’t enough.

He knew the reason why, but confirming it in his mind seemed painfully stereotypical. The walls seemed too close together, the furniture too small. Yes, this apartment was suitable for one person, but Phil no longer saw himself as just an individual.

He wondered whether having Dan with him would change his outlook on things. On a practical level, he had a way more artistic eye than him – he could breathe new life into this apartment with next to no effort. Aside from that, he already missed Dan’s presence near him.

With the knowledge that he had to power to find his way back to Dan, he decided to put as much effort into his spread as possible. The quicker he got it done, the quicker he could turn the page on the current chapter of his life.

Since he was in a productive mood and his memories of Paris were still fresh in his mind, he decided to make a pot of coffee and pull out his laptop. His inclination to have coffee as he wrote was one he often regretted, but some of his best work had been written while completely off his face on caffeine.

Reading through notes he’d made on the trip, he realised it was more of a mammoth task than he’d let onto. Sighing, he decided to make a schedule for the upcoming week or so he inevitably found himself drowned in work. Most of his days would be spent fact checking and editing as opposed to actual writing (he’d already finished that, thank _god_ ), with free time to skype Dan each evening.

It had only been a number of hours since he’d last seen him, but Phil already missed Dan more than was probably normal. For a moment, he considered calling him to listen to the sound of his voice, but he refrained. Procrastination was the last thing he needed right now.

After proofreading his entire spread once, he groaned and finally got to work. The final stages were the most arduous yet most rewarding – seeing something he’d been working on for so long come to fruition at last was one of the only reasons he’d kept his job as long as he had.

A small part of his brain reminded him that the quality of this spread didn’t matter too deeply. Besides, he was submitting this then quitting, right? He could botch it as much as he wanted to if he removed all traces of himself afterwards.

He immediately chastised himself. As much as he was infatuated with Dan, he wasn’t going to waste months of work just to get back to him quicker, though it sounded appealing. If anything, the spread would be a testament to the work he’d done for the magazine, a silent ‘goodbye’ to his more faithful readers.

The deeper Phil got into working, the more smoothly it flowed. Over the next few days, he settled into a routine: wake up, drag his caffeine-deprived self to Starbucks to get breakfast and work, come home for more work and snacks, inevitably cave in and Skype Dan for hours on end, get a shitty takeaway for dinner and fall down a rabbit hole of conspiracy theory videos on YouTube until he fell asleep.

Skyping Dan was the highlight of his day. It was during the time when afternoon was melting into evening, when the view from his bedroom went from dreary central Manchester to a haven of lights and drizzling rain and dusky skies.

Phil would sit on his sofa wrapped in a blanket, laptop whirring and phone beside him, waiting eagerly for Dan to let him know he was free. Whenever his phone buzzed, he’d open Skype without even checking to see if the notification was from Dan. Nine times out of ten, it was.

After just under two weeks of driving himself borderline insane over getting his work done, his phone buzzed. He softened; saving his work, he opened Skype and called Dan. Moments later, Dan’s face popped up on the screen, pixelated but still as stunning as ever.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey.”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“What about?” Phil asked, smiling.

“Just... stuff. Nothing majorly exciting.”

“You can’t tell me that and expect me to move on,” he chastised. “I need details.”

Dan huffed. “Fine. I was thinking about the future.”

“And?”

“It was just me daydreaming, but in a few months’ time we’ll be together. You can visit me at work and we can hang out with PJ and Chris and bake cookies and watch TV for hours on end and redecorate my place and nap together and – I don’t know. I keep getting myself excited.”

“Me too,” Phil admitted. “That’s what’s been keeping me going. I’m super close to getting it finished now.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Give me a couple of days and it’ll be submitted.”

“That’s so cool. I’m proud of you.”

“That makes one of us.”

“You should be proud of what you’ve done,” Dan frowned. “You’ve been working so hard to get it finished. Your readers will appreciate the dedication.”

“They better do. I’m fucking fed up.”

Dan snickered. “Are you really that sick of travel journalism?”

“Don’t get me wrong, it is fun,” Phil replied. “It’s just a lot of work and it’s the only thing I’ve been doing since I finished uni. Maybe it’s time I tried something else.”

“Like what?”

“I had one idea, but you’re not allowed to laugh at it.”

“Tell me.”

“As long as you don’t laugh.”

“I won’t! Just tell me.”

“Well, I... I like watching movies a lot and I already have experience with journalism, so I thought maybe something along those lines? Like, reviewing movies or something. Maybe. I’m not too sure.”

Dan’s face lit up. “That’s such a great idea!”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. You’re such a knob sometimes. You thought I’d laugh at that? It’s perfect for you.”

“If you say so. I just don’t really know where to begin.”

“Say no more,” Dan replied dramatically, flipping imaginary hair over his shoulder. “I have a couple of friends who I could reach out to. There has to be something out there for you.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, his cheeks warming up ever so slightly. “You’re nice sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?”

“Did I stutter?”

“I hate you,” Dan said, his voice laced with such fondness that Phil wanted nothing more than to be able to hold him. The longer time had gone on, the further away 200 miles seemed.

“Don’t make me miss you more.”

A small silence fell upon them. Dan leant his head on his hand and sighed.

“Why don’t I visit you one weekend? After you’ve finished everything, obviously. I could help you pack up your stuff and bring it back to London.”

Phil perked up slightly. “I’d like that. I could show you all the sights in Manchester.”

“You could be my tour guide,” he chuckled. “Reintroduce me to everything I saw in passing while I was at uni there.”

“Plus you get to see this old place,” Phil mentioned, gesturing to his apartment. He’d given Dan tours of it on Skype before, but somehow a screen never did justice to the real thing.

“It’s a perfectly nice apartment. I don’t get why you’re so negative about it.”

“I’m not negative!” he protested. “I’ve just... outgrown it. It’s time for a fresh start.”

“It’s going to be so good,” Dan added, his voice almost giddy. “I’m excited.”

“I am too,” Phil replied, sounding as sincere as he could. “I just need to get this damn spread finished as soon as possible.”

“Don’t stress yourself too much. Getting it done quickly doesn’t matter. Making sure it’s good does.”

“I know,” Phil reassured him. “I’ve just been getting cabin fever. I could use a visit from you to drag me out of here.”

“Your wish is my command. I could get a train next Friday afternoon?”

“Please do.”

-

The rest of the night, Phil whiled away the hours talking to Dan about whatever came to mind. They discussed nothing and everything, small questions to crazily big issues. Phil always found that Dan’s view of the world was so refreshing and unlike anybody else he’d seen before; he always found beauty in the most inconspicuous of places.

When it was approaching midnight, he could feel himself growing sleepy. Wishing Dan goodnight, he dragged himself to bed, his body soon sinking into the mattress.

Over the next three days, Phil was able to finally complete his spread. Reading through it one last time, he sighed contentedly before emailing it to his boss. All of his hard work had paid off. Collapsing back on his sofa in pure exhaustion, he had one thought: _it’s time to turn the page_.

Since Dan was working at that point, he wandered to the kitchen in search of something to eat. There was a tub of cookie dough ice cream calling his name and a mountain of TV shows to catch up on. Pulling the tub out of the freezer and grabbing a spoon, he flopped back down on his sofa and began scrolling through Netflix, his afternoon’s plans sorted.

When he’d watched far too much Stranger Things, he turned his TV off and snuggled up on his sofa, not even bothering to move to his bed.

The next morning, he was woken up by a ringing. Groaning, he looked around and remembered he’d fallen asleep on his sofa. With his legs aching slightly, he stood up and looked around for his phone. His limbs were still sluggish and his mind cloudy as he picked it up and answered it.

“Lover boy,” PJ began, cheerful.

“Hey, Peej,” he replied, his voice still thick with sleep. “How’ve you been?”

“Fucking busy. The production’s in just over 2 weeks. I keep having to readjust the main character’s costume.”

Phil sat back down on the sofa and wrapped a blanket over his legs. “Sounds fun.”

“Designing costumes is the fun part. Listening to various actors basically slagging your work off is kind of draining. You get used to tuning it out after a while.”

“You think they’d be able to be at least a little polite,” Phil grumbled. “Your costumes are incredible. You know that.”

“Of course I do. At least the pay’s good.”

Phil snorted. “Priorities.”

“Mm. How are things with you?”

“Honestly? Quite hectic.”

“How so?”

“I’m thinking of resigning.”

“Holy shit,” PJ replied. “What would you do instead? You’ve been working for old Connor for ages.”

“I might move down to London,” Phil mentioned. “That’s the plan, at least. I’m not too sure what to do in terms of work yet but I’ll find something fairly quickly. Hopefully.”

“This is the best thing I’ve ever heard. You’re serious about making it work with Dan?”

“I’d say so,” Phil murmured, feeling his cheeks heat up. “We’ll take things slow. See what happens.”

“You two are bloody adorable,” PJ chuckled. “On another note, we’ll finally be able to spend some quality time with each other. I’ve missed Mario Kart.”

“Nothing quite like throwing shells at your friends while completely sober.”

“Absolutely. Not to mention having a sip of water every lap. Hydration is important.”

“Vital, some might say.”

“You’re too much. Listen, keep me updated on what happens. If you need help with moving then call me. I’ll see if I can clear a couple of hours to help you unpack.”

“Thanks, Peej. Talk to you soon.”

“You too. Bye.”

After hanging up, he opened his laptop and opened the draft email he’d read over countless times. Uncertainty fluttered in his stomach. As soon as he sent it, there was no turning back. As soon as he sent it, he could start thinking about when to return to Dan.

The smile creeping up Phil’s lips was radiant and infectious. Sighing contentedly, he read over his email one final time before biting the bullet and clicking ‘send’.

-

_Dear Miss Connor,_

_This is an email to let you know that I have decided to resign from my position as travel editor. My time working here has been rewarding and eye-opening, and I wish you and everyone at The Traveller all the best for the future._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Phil Lester_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are looking good lads
> 
> hopefully i won't abandon this for nearly a month again lmao. also i think there'll be around 20 chapters in total?? whomst knows :')
> 
> ily all and i'll be back here at some point in the future <3


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S BEEN FAR TOO LONG I'M SORRY HERE HAVE THIS

Phil had never been too good at controlling his nerves. Even as a child, he used to feel them twist through his veins and coil round his stomach. His chest would rise and fall rapidly, the oxygen never quite reaching his lungs. It wasn’t a welcome situation, but one he gradually became accustomed to. The only exception was the fact that for once, he was feeling nervous excitement rather than trepidation.

Dan had taken him up on his offer of visiting Manchester as soon as he’d suggested it. Since Phil’s spread was now in the hands of his old boss, he’d found himself at a loss of what to do with his sudden free time. In the end, he divided it between playing copious amounts of Skyrim, attempting to clean up his apartment and hanging out with his barista friends at Starbucks.

Starbucks was now where he found himself, standing in a queue and feeling his insides flutter. Dan’s train was due to arrive soon, and he needed a diabetes-inducing drink to take his mind off things.

Since it felt like all the anxiety in his body had filled up his stomach, food was out of the question. When he’d reached the front of the queue, he smiled at Tasha (one of the many baristas who probably knew his order off by heart now) before requesting the usual – a caramel macchiato.

“I have my break in a few minutes,” she said cheerily. “You free now?”

“Dan’s train’s due in half an hour,” he replied, pulling his card out of the machine and slotting it back into his wallet. “I could use a distraction.”

Tasha smiled knowingly before excusing herself. She was one of the few people Phil could trust with anything, and someone he was immensely grateful to have in his life.

When Phil was waiting for Tasha, he pulled out his phone.

_What’s your eta?_

**_around 4 i think but the train keeps slowing down then speeding up_ **

_Oh?? That’s weird_

**_tell me about it. i’m inclined to think it’s a homophobic hate crime_ **

Phil chuckled as he typed out a reply.

_I nearly choked on my drink because of that_

_Also I’ll be waiting on the platform when you arrive_

**_and they say chivalry is dead_ **

_Stop making me laugh!!!_

**_i can’t help the fact that i’m a comedy god_ **

**_anyway_ **

**_see u soon ily <3_ **

_Ily too :D_

“You two are sweet.”

Phil jerked around in surprise to see a grinning Tasha in front of him. Her green work apron had been replaced with a denim jacket and her hair fell in loose waves around her face.

“Christ, Tasha. How long were you there for?”

“Long enough. Let’s go.”

They walked outside and along the street until they found a bench to sit on. As Phil sipped on his drink, Tasha balanced a cigarette between her lips and lit it up. When the cherry started to flicker, she inhaled, gently blew smoke out and turned to Phil.

“When is Dan due in?”

He swallowed. “Around 4. I have just under 25 minutes to kill.”

“Unfortunately I’ll only be able to entertain you for 15,” she replied, sighing.

“I thought your break was only 5 minutes.”

“Technically it is, but Max has the next shift. I’ll make it up to him or something.”

“By sucking his dick? Straight people are something else.”

“Shut up!” she laughed, smacking his arm with her free hand. “You know damn well I swing both ways. Besides, it’s a friendly thing. He’d do the same for me.”

Phil knew Max well enough to know that he’d walk on water for Tasha if he could. Tasha (being Tasha) was blissfully unaware of this, but Phil couldn’t find it within himself to disturb the equilibrium they had. Playing matchmaker wasn’t his forte, nor would it ever be his forte.

“Whatever you say.”

She tutted. “That’s enough of my woes for today. How are things with you?”

“You know how things are.”

“Yes, but I need _details_. Your hot boyfriend’s coming to stay for however long to drag you out of your apartment and then you’re abandoning me to live the life of a gay aristocrat. That’s not enough for me and we both know it. I’ll get more information by any means necessary.”

“Fine. But on one condition.”

“What’s the condition?”

“Offer to take Max out for dinner or something.”

“It’s not like you to play matchmaker,” she frowned.

“I know, but he’s ridiculously enamoured with you and maybe you’re just too stubborn to realise that. In a month or so I’ll be down in London with Dan and I’ll be happy and – I want you to be happy, Tash. You deserve more than just a friend with benefits.”

Tasha huffed out a laugh, but it was tinged with resigned kind of agreement. “If it’d make you that happy, I will. It’s not like you’re asking me to quit smoking.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good, because I can’t. Max, on the other hand, is a manageable task.”

“Cut the guy some slack! He worships the ground you walk on.”

A small smile crept up her lips. “I guess he isn’t bad for a white boy.”

-

The second Phil had submitted the email, he’d panicked slightly. Doubts sparked in his mind like individual currents until before too long, he found himself unable to do anything but wait for an email back. A mug of coffee lay untouched to his left and his finger seemed to be on auto-pilot, constantly refreshing his inbox in the hopes that _something_ would pop up and put him out of his misery.

When he’d waited for longer than was considered normal and nothing had come through, he’d slammed his laptop shut, rubbed his eyes and grumbled. Even a simple email of acknowledgement would have been enough, but seeing as that wasn’t going to happen, Phil had to settle for a nervous wait.

At that moment in time, all his hard work had seemed unfruitful, pointless. He’d slaved away at a spread for months on end, and for what? A sense of accomplishment? As soon as he saw Dan running down the platform towards him, however, he realised why he’d done what he had. When Dan dropped his suitcase and practically jumped on top of him, those feelings only solidified.

“I missed you,” he whispered, his breath tickling the shell of Phil’s ear.

“Funnily enough, I missed you too,” Phil replied. Dan’s laughter vibrated through him.

They stood there for an indefinite amount of time, soaking in each other’s scent, the sunshine washing over them and the comfort from being together again. Tilting his head, Phil pressed a soft kiss directly underneath Dan’s jaw.

“Someone’s a little daring,” Dan teased.

“It’s been too long,” Phil retorted. “Plus you’ve got luggage to drop off.”

They slowly pulled away from each other, Dan letting his hand trail down Phil’s arm. “You make a very good point. Would you be so kind as to direct me to where I’ll be staying for the next few days?”

“I’m sure I can see to that.”

With Phil leading the way, the two walked along the platform and past the bench Phil had just been on with Tasha. As they walked past the Starbucks, Phil looked through the window to see if anyone was watching. The sun glimmering against the windows meant he could only see his reflection, but when he saw Dan standing next to him, the corners of his lips perked up.

He momentarily thought back to what he’d said on the bench. _In a month or so I’ll be down in London with Dan and I’ll be happy_. The weight of the words hadn’t quite sunk in, and Phil wasn’t sure he knew when they would.

It wasn’t like he’d been unhappy before he’d met Dan. He had most things normally considered to increase his chances of living a content life, but over the years, the lines between comfort and confinement had become blurry. When he’d made the realisation of what he was missing out on, something in him shifted. No, he wasn’t unhappy – he just knew how to become happier.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Phil glanced over his shoulder at Dan and smiled, squinting slightly in the afternoon sun. He brushed the back of his hand against Dan’s in a move that was discreet enough for only the two of them to see but big enough to communicate how he was feeling.

“I just got distracted,” he replied finally. “I always get ahead of myself.”

“That’s not such a bad thing,” Dan said, his voice low. “It’s nice to have things to look forward to.”

“You make an excellent point. First on my list is take you home and kiss the absolute living shit out of you.”

He heard Dan’s breath catch. “Our lists appear to be quite similar.”

True to his word, Phil had barely dragged Dan through his front door before slamming their lips together. It had been a long time coming, but more than worth the wait. They’d reached a level with each other where they instinctively knew what the other liked, knew what buttons to push to get what they wanted.

Dan pulled away and grinned. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Phil replied, bemused.

“Nice place you got here.”

“It does what I need it to. Fancy a tour?”

“Please.”

Unwinding his arms from around Dan’s neck, Phil glanced around and made a mental plan in his head. Feeling sufficiently prepared, he took an exaggerated deep breath and plastered on his best newsreader voice.

“As you can see, we’re standing in the entrance to this apartment. This is-”

Dan cut him off with a stifled giggle. Looking at Phil, he stopped and composed himself.

“I’m sorry. Continue.”

“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted,” (Dan made a face which he opted to ignore), “this is where my shoes live. This is also where your shoes will be living for the duration of your stay.”

“Shoes aren’t sentient.”

“Everything is fake anyway. Now, we move past the entrance hall to the main living area. This is where I watch copious amounts of Netflix and spend most of my time when I’m not sleeping.”

“Is that the sofa you Skype me from?”

“Yeah. And that’s the dodgy window I’m always complaining about. Anyway! Onto the kitchen.”

As soon as he walked through the archway into the kitchen, he wrinkled his nose at how much air freshener he’d used. He wasn’t sure whether he preferred the smell of dirty dishes or the overpowering scent of what was described as ‘tropical breeze’. When Dan coughed, he knew he could smell it too.

“This is the kitchen. This is where I abandon dirty dishes and use too much Febreeze to try to compensate for the smell of said dirty dishes.”

“Too much is an understatement,” Dan muttered. “I thought you’d been getting takeaways for a while? Not that I condone that either, but-”

“I have to eat the food off something,” he deadpanned. “Speaking of takeaways, I hope you’re alright if we order one tonight. There’s this noodle bar downtown and damn, their food is incredible.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Good.”

Dan chuckled. “But you can’t bring them anywhere near this room. They’d get intoxicated.”

“At least I made an effort!”

“I suppose. You’re cute when you want to be.”

“Thanks so much.”

“Any time. Back to the tour?”

“There’s only one stop left. Is it worth introducing?”

“A good tour guide doesn’t slack until the tour’s finished,” Dan tutted.

“Fine. Follow me.”

Phil manoeuvred past Dan and out of the kitchen, back through the living room and through a door to the left. Flicking a light on, he sat on the edge of his bed and gauged Dan’s reaction. It was his favourite room in his apartment, and one he knew would get a lot of use for as long as Dan was staying.

Wordlessly, he came over to sit next to Phil, their thighs pressing together. He felt his heart speed up ever so slightly. He’d been craving physical contact for such a long time that to finally have it again felt like the first time all over again.

After a silence filled with wordless communication, Phil finally spoke.

“So, that’s the end of the tour. Any questions?”

“Only one.”

“Hit me.”

“Mind if we finish what we started?”

-

Noodles were a close second to having sex with Dan. As soon as he emptied the takeaway packets into some bowls and the scent drifted towards his nose, he inhaled it greedily before grabbing some cutlery and making his way into the living room.

When he entered, he saw Dan sitting on his sofa wrapped in a blanket and part of him melted. He dropped a kiss on the top of his head to get his attention, and when Dan looked up, he presented him with his bowl of noodles.

“The infamous noodles,” Dan said, taking the bowl from him.

Phil sat down and huddled next to Dan under the blanket. “The almost-as-good-as-sex noodles.”

“Is that what they’re known as now?”

“That’s their official title, yes.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Dan wound some around his fork and took a bite. Phil took one at the same time, as if he was trying to experience what Dan was experiencing in that moment.

“Holy shit,” he said at last.

“Right? They’re a godsend.”

“They are. You must think I’m amazing in bed, because, well, _damn_.”

“Maybe I’m just being complimentary.”

“Hey! Take that back!”

“Make me.”

“I’m having an intimate moment with these noodles. But later. I clearly have something to prove.”

“I can live with that.”

As it turned out, they were both so tired after watching TV that night that later never came. The pair dragged their tired selves to Phil’s bed before falling asleep next to each other.

All the day’s travelling had clearly worn Dan out, as he fell asleep with ease. In the dim light, Phil let his eyes run over the curls flopping in Dan’s face, the light hitting the bridge of his nose, how he caught his bottom lip between his teeth as he slept.

His last waking thought was one of how unbelievably lucky he was to have someone like Dan by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hi hello
> 
> sorry this chapter a) took a month again and b) was so short :( life's been super hectic recently and i've missed writing this so much so hopefully i'll be able to update it more regularly !!
> 
> i lov u all and thank u sososo much for the continued support <3


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello it's been over a month and i'm sorry but this is it! the final chapter! i'm so overwhelmed and proud of myself for actually finishing something this long i can't even put it into words
> 
> i'll explain more at the end but i hope u enjoy <3

Over the next week or so, the life Phil had gradually been getting used to changed. Looking around, there was a noticeable difference in his apartment (emptier), the number of cardboard boxes strewn around (too many to count) and his happiness levels (through the roof). The more he packed away, the more the reality of his situation sunk in.

During his time with Dan, his emotions had been somewhere between excited and terrified. Of course he was happy to see him, he always would be, but a part of his mind wanted to crawl up onto the sofa and forget anything was shifting.

One night, as Phil was waiting for dinner to cook, his phone buzzed with a notification. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he unlocked it and saw a new email in his inbox.

_Hello Phil!_

_While this news is quite unexpected, I accept your wishes. I must first congratulate you on all you’ve contributed to us over the years (your latest spread is currently being formatted for publishing) and thank you for your admirable work ethos and approach to journalism. You’ve amounted a steady group of readers, and while I’m sure they’ll be upset, they’ll all want the best for you in your next choice of career._

_Secondly, you’ll be required to come back into the office to clear your workspace. Your colleagues will also want to wish you farewell (including me) in person, so why not have a small party? Let me know when you’re free and we can get it arranged._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Eve Connor_

Reading through the email several times, something inside him sunk. This was it. He was now unemployed, and fresh panic swirled in his veins.

It was too soon. He wasn’t due to move down to London for at least another week, but with the way packing was going, it could be another month. He had too many memories associated with this little apartment, and pulling things off shelves and storing them in cardboard boxes became a little too emotional after a while.

For a minute, he’d wondered if he’d made a mistake. What if he was rushing into things with Dan? Sure, he was his boyfriend (a label that still made him giddy), but he knew that even boyfriends didn’t move in together until they’d known each other better. What if he was setting himself up for failure? What if he was following his heart instead of his head? What if-?

“Phil?” A voice called out. It seemed far away, distant. At some point after he’d read the email, he’d slid down against his fridge, clutching his phone in his hand like it could shatter at any moment. Like he could shatter at any moment.

“Phil? The oven’s beeping.”

There was no reply.

“Phil.” The voice grew louder until he felt a figure kneel in front of him. A hand gently reached out to clasp his chin and raise his face upwards until his eyes met a pair of brown ones.

Wordlessly, Phil dropped his phone and wound his arms around Dan’s neck, pressing his face into his shoulder. Dan let his hands rest at Phil’s sides and rubbed small circular motions on his back.

For a moment, they stayed there, with anxious tears threatening to spill from Phil’s eyes. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, with his knees beginning to sting from supporting his body weight, but Dan’s presence was all the reassurance he needed and more.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Dan asked, the low hum of his voice vibrating against Phil’s chest. “I’ve never seen you like this before.”

Moving to face Dan, he nodded. He untangled his arms from around Dan’s neck and the pair stood up.

“The oven,” he said pathetically.

“I sorted it out. Don’t worry.” Dan replied, clasping his hand. “We have more urgent issues to attend to.”

When they were both sitting on the sofa, Phil inhaled to let Dan know he was about to talk. The last time he could remember the air being so still was back in his hotel room in Paris, where neither of them quite knew what to say. In that moment, he’d had to sit and listen. Now it was Dan’s turn.

“I guess I’m just scared more than anything,” he began, running his finger along the seams. “Manchester has been my home for so long. Not that London isn’t lovely as well, I’m sure it is, I just – it’ll take some getting used to.”

“We can take this as fast or as slow as you want,” Dan replied softly. “There’s no fixed timeframe. Just the two of us and forever.”

Phil chuckled, trying to mask how much he was shaking. “You cheesy bastard.”

“Sue me for being supportive.”

“Of course I’m grateful to have you,” he added. “You’re the only one keeping me sane.”

Dan’s face morphed into a concerned frown. “I didn’t realise things were this bad.”

“They’re not bad. I’m just going to need a while. I just got an email from my boss confirming my resignation and suddenly everything’s so... so...”

“Real?” Dan offered. Phil nodded. “What did the email say?”

Leaning over, he pulled his phone off the coffee table and passed it over to Dan. He hadn’t bothered to turn it off since reading the email, some part of him feeling like he was trying to ignore the inevitable.

Another part of him wanted to give himself a slap for being so melodramatic – he’d known for some time what the future would hold. Why had it taken so long to sink in? Looking back, he realised why. He’d been so preoccupied with other things, so busy trying to prioritise what needed done that he didn’t give himself enough time to properly think ahead.

“That’s not such a bad idea,” he said, ripping Phil from his thoughts.

“What is?”

“Having a goodbye party. It sounds like there are people who’d like to wish you well, you know?”

“I guess,” Phil trailed off, biting his lip slightly. “There are other friends I’ll have to say goodbye to as well.”

“The baristas can come too. Eve didn’t specify that it was employees only.”

“How do you know about the baristas?”

“You never stop talking about them,” Dan chuckled. “What are they called again? There’s Tasha and Max who have the friends-with-benefits thing going on and –”

“Okay, alright, point made,” Phil interrupted him. “Where would the party be? And when?”

“One – some fancy restaurant and two – next weekend. Give me a place and I’ll do the booking.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to. C’mere.”

Crawling over to where Dan was sitting, Phil wrapped himself under Dan’s arm and nestled against his chest, hearing the muffled thud of his heartbeat. Dan ran a finger along Phil’s jawline and he hummed in appreciation.

“You’re too good to me.”

“There’s no such thing as being too good to anyone,” Dan replied matter-of-factly.

They lingered for a while, with the rise and fall of Dan’s chest comforting Phil in a way that he didn’t quite get himself. The air was calm, there was no traffic outside – in a world that had suddenly ground to a halt, Dan was the only thing moving, keeping him going.

“I love you,” he almost whispered. “You know that, right?”

“Now I know for sure,” Dan said, his voice wavering. “I can feel myself getting there.”

Phil smiled a smile so wide he wondered if it was possible for his cheeks to split in two.

-

When Dan had said ‘fancy restaurant’, Phil had assumed it’d be somewhere not quite Burger King but not quite Michelin star worthy. There was a healthy selection in Manchester alone; all were reasonably close to his apartment and had menus with dishes that everyone could enjoy. It wasn’t too much of a stretch of the imagination to believe that Dan had booked one of them for a nice dinner with friends.

As it turned out, the two had very different ideas of what ‘fancy’ meant. The moment Phil realised this, however, was too late. His heart lurched in his chest. Dan had only gone and booked one of the most extravagant restaurants in his vicinity.

Extravagant didn’t even begin to cover it. For however many years he’d lived in Manchester, he steadfastly avoided it because of how inadequate it made him feel. Of course, he knew it was a restaurant and _restaurants aren’t supposed to do that they’re designed to serve you food which you pay for you prick_ , but some part of him never quite shook the lack of self-esteem that was driving him away.

Inside, things got worse. The second he stepped inside with Dan, a man with the cleanest shirt he’d ever seen offered to hang his coat up in the restaurant’s cloakroom. After suppressing a confused and anxious laugh, he slipped it off and handed it over, with Dan following suit.

“Are you part of the larger party?” he asked.

“We are,” Dan replied, his hand resting on Phil’s back.

“If you’d like to follow me, I’ll lead the way.”

“Thank you.”

They followed the waiter past several tables and through an archway into a more secluded area, where Phil’s colleagues and friends were already sitting and talking over some wine. Everything glimmered in a way that made it seem untouchable, with lights that were too-bright and squeaky clean cutlery.

“Are you kidding me?” he hissed at Dan, soaking in his surroundings.

Dan hid a laugh behind his hand. “It’s pretty damn nice in here.”

“Yes, but _too_ nice. I thought you’d chosen some cosy little gastro pub or something.”

“They weren’t extra enough,” Dan reasoned. “You want to go out with a bang, don’t you?”

“Not this much of a bang!” he protested. “It smells of capitalism in here.”

Dan had no time to reply. The people who were sitting before now got out of their seats to come over to greet Phil. He recognised all of them, from the barista clique to his office buddies and Eve herself. Dan had clearly been doing some digging, as all of them seemed appropriately dressed for the occasion that was now too much of an occasion.

As Eve approached, she extended her hand and shook his warmly. Having been used to her wearing neutral colours, Phil was surprised to see her wearing a green dress that swished at her ankles and emphasised the darkness of her eyes. He was suddenly affronted by the thought that this could be the last time he saw her.

“Hello there!”

“Hi Eve,” he replied. “Thank you so much for coming. This is all rather overwhelming.”

“It’s no trouble,” she assured him. “Your partner chose a wonderful location. The desserts here are sublime.”

For a second, he wasn’t sure if she knew about his situation with Dan. Dan had obviously contacted her to invite her here, but what had he described his relationship to Phil as?

“He did,” Phil sighed, glancing over to where Dan was standing. He was talking to Tasha, whose hand was holding Max’s. He quirked a brow.

“He speaks the world of you, you know,” she added.

Phil willed himself not to blush. “Oh?”

“You’d be daft to ignore it. His sole priority the entire time was you. Your comfort, your happiness, your everything. I think you two will be very happy together.”

It was unusual of Eve to be so sincere, so upfront. He smiled at her as it sunk in just how much he’d miss having her as his boss. Life was currently an inbetween point of being not quite ready to leave the past behind but not quite ready to embrace the future, and little things made all the difference.

“I think we will. London’s quite a drive from Manchester, though. That’ll take some getting used to.”

“London is a lovely part of the world,” she decided. “It’s such a hub of culture. There’s always something to do or explore. Also excellent for journalists, if you’re still keen on that path.”

“It’s definitely a possibility. I’ve always been interested in film and theatre, so I might look into something that incorporates them. I don’t know.”

“That sounds so exciting. I’ll be rooting for you.” Eve’s eyes looked past Phil and lit up. “I think someone wants to get your attention.”

Turning around, he saw Dan wave and smiled at him.

“I think we should probably sit down now,” he mentioned. “Could you possibly spread the word?”

“It’s what I do for a living.” With a wink she was off, leaving a slightly bemused Phil in her wake.

By the time Phil was seated most of his friends were already sitting down and chatting amicably. At one end, some of his oldest colleagues were already giving orders to the waiter hovering near them; others were making small talk between themselves. To his right, Dan was sat reading a menu.

“They do nice stuff here,” he hummed. “I’ll have the risotto. It sounds delicious.”

Leaning over his shoulder, his eyes scanned over the menu and then reread everything. There was too much choice – it seemed like every kind of meat or seafood was offered, and then some. The selection was overwhelming, but he opted for a steak.

“Steak’s a bit mainstream,” Dan commented offhandedly.

“And risotto isn’t?” he retorted, knocking their knees together.

“Touché.”

The wait for the food was shorter than he’d expected, considering the size of the group he was with and the high standard of the restaurant. From past experience, food would often take nearly an hour to arrive; when waiters were questioned about it, they’d give the excuse that ‘perfection can never be rushed’. They had a point, but it could get tiring after a while.

Phil said all of this to Dan, who seemed to agree. His eyes had fluttered shut to inhale the scent of his risotto, which from where he was sitting smelt divine – rich and tomatoey and well spiced.

“This came in 20 minutes flat and I’d say it’s pretty damn close to perfection,” he said, his eyes now open and pointed in Phil’s direction. “So... perfection can never be rushed, but it can sometimes take varying lengths of time to happen.”

“Mug cakes take a minute in the microwave,” Phil offered.

“You took 9 months to be born,” Dan fired back.

Phil almost choked on the piece of steak he’d just started chewing, his eyes blown wide. Dan laughed wickedly and continued spooning risotto into his mouth as if nothing had happened. After swallowing some water and trying to cough away from everyone else, he glared at Dan with all the fond aggression he could muster.

“At the rate we’re going I’ll only last 9 seconds later.”

The roles were instantly reversed. Dan got a few questioning looks from other people sitting with them, but they laughed away any concern afterwards.

Dessert came and went even quicker than the main course. While Phil wolfed down his bowl of chocolate something-or-other, Dan pulled out his phone to capture several different angles of his plate. He had an artistic eye for that kind of thing, one of the things Phil admired most. Even the most ordinary, everyday things took on a different kind of light around him.

The table slowly hushed as Eve stood up and cleared her throat.

“Mind if I say a few words?” she asked, more an introduction than a question.

“No, please. Go for it.”

“Good. Now... where to begin? Phil is by no means my oldest or most experienced employee, but his form of writing is something rather refreshing to read. He doesn’t make his articles all about him or exaggerate or extort anything. It’s all thoughtfully done, and in a way – in a way that makes you see just how interested he is in what he’s talking about. Some people inundate readers with facts, others are overemotional, but Phil gets just the right blend of the two. It’s wonderful.

“When he first joined the team he was a shy and withdrawn kind of person. He never talked more than he needed to, he just got on with his job and drained the office’s coffee supply. No other man I know drinks as much coffee as he does.”

Dan glanced over at Phil, as if to say _I know exactly what you’re talking about Eve this man has a problem_. Phil shrugged.

“And now you’re moving onto bigger and better things. We’ll all miss you so much Phil, we really will, but I’m sure I can speak on behalf of everyone when I say we want the best for you. Good luck for what the future holds. Let’s toast to him.”

There was a round of clinks as everyone brought their glasses together then took small sips from them. To Phil’s surprise, Max then pushed his chair back and stood up.

“May I?” he asked. A small murmur of agreement rippled around the table.

“I know we’ve technically never been colleagues, so the fact that I’m standing here is a little questionable to begin with, but I’d like to say a few words. It’s more of a story, really. You might know the one I’m referring to.”

Phil racked his brain before stumbling upon a memory that he’d prefer to keep hidden permanently. Grimacing, he looked up at Max, who had a glint in his eye.

“Phil and I have known each other since we were quite young. 11 or 12, to be exact. We went to the same secondary school. We weren’t particularly friendly back then, but we knew of each other. He became quite the figure one glorious summer back in ’02 when he decided his hair needed updating.”

As soon as Max said this, Dan’s hands flew to his mouth.

“Highlighter face?” he mouthed wordlessly. Phil nodded.

“That September, everyone was miserable to return to school. Nobody wanted to have homework again or get up early or manage those awful school lunches. Phil, however, was miserable for a different reason. I didn’t see it until breaktime on the first day back, but when I did... let’s just say it was unexpected.

“He’d tried to dye his hair blonde, but it turned out such a luminous shade of yellowy-orange that the entire year called him ‘highlighter face’ for a solid two months. Ever since then, I knew he was one to watch.

“After secondary school, we grew distant. College and university both passed. Phil was working on some post-production thing, I forget the details. Point is, he used to come to the Starbucks where I was working, and he always ordered a caramel macchiato. He’d spend hours in one corner hunched over his laptop until one day he just – stopped.”

Laughter gently fizzled out. It seemed Max was trying to steer his speech down a melancholier route, one which Phil wasn’t sure he could handle. The gravity of the situation had slowly sunk in, the fact that life was moving on and new beginnings were finally coming.

“I was closing that day and Phil was sitting in a corner not doing anything. We were friendly at that point, so I asked him what was wrong. He said he didn’t know what he wanted to do with his future, that he was scared of wasting time and money on something that didn’t fulfil him. He didn’t think a career in editing would be financially rewarding, I guess.

“So I did what any friend would do and I tried to give him advice on what his options were. He’d done English at university and enjoyed writing bits and pieces here and there. I mentioned The Traveller and he seemed interested enough. Less than a month later he had a job.

“Shit, I’ve known you quite a while now. It’ll be weird not seeing you as much, but you’re always welcome back for catching up over a heart attack in a mug.”

Making sure he wasn’t going to cry, Phil stood up and began hugging everyone who’d come. With each person came their own individual queries and memories and good wishes, and it took a long time to get around.

After it all, he was drained both physically and emotionally. Walking back to his apartment with Dan felt like turning his back on everything, a sensation that coiled round his stomach and wouldn’t leave. Dan seemed to pick up on this, as he squeezed his hand a little tighter and his voice was softer when they arrived.

“You should sleep. We can talk tomorrow.”

When tomorrow came, it came with a promise of good things to come. His apartment was nearly completely packed up apart from the bare necessities; it seemed like a skeleton of the home he’d lived in for so long, but the more time passed, the more accustomed he became to it.

In the following days, the final items were packed into boxes which eventually got packed into a moving truck. Phil let a few stray tears fall from his eyes. Even though he was a grown adult who believed himself to be mostly rational, every now and then he found himself getting emotional over little things.

After looking around one final time, he finally closed the front door and made his way to where Dan was waiting.

“You’ve been crying,” he noted, a hand clasping his shoulder.

“I didn’t think I’d be so sentimental,” Phil murmured in reply.

“There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s normal.”

“I know. Part of me wants to believe I’m happy crying.”

“No more dodgy windows!” Dan mused. “No more countless flights of stairs and lowkey dysfunctional kitchen either, for that matter.”

“I’m happy about that, but that’s not a good enough reason to cry.”

“Then what is?”

“I... well, it – do you remember that night back in Paris? With the cute restaurant and pretty lights.”

“You’re skipping the part where I sucked your soul out, but yes. I do. Why?”

Phil rolled his eyes. “After that. I said something. It just came back to me now.”

“It’s stuck with me for a while,” Dan confessed. “I suppose it’s finally come true. All the pieces are falling into place like a puzzle. What was the phrase you used? A... jigsaw falling into place.”

Phil simply smiled and wound his arms around Dan, pulling them together. He hadn’t meant for that original thought to bloom into something so integral to the two of them, but it now seemed odd to take it back.

For most of his life, he’d felt like he needed to find a purpose. As a child, it was going through school. After university, it was finding a job. Not before long, each little stepping stone he took that was supposed to reassure him of his future seemed futile. Instead of congratulating himself on how far he’d come, he was constantly looking forward to what he could do next.

Dan’s presence around him had finally made him realise his purpose. It was clichéd at the least to think about it, but he didn’t care. Fuck anyone who said otherwise. He wasn’t finding happiness for anyone else other than himself, and now that he had it, he’d be damned if he didn’t cling onto it for as long as he could.

Now he had all the pieces to slot together, he was ready for whatever life would throw at him. He had Dan, and even if that was all he had in the world, he’d still be content.

After all, a jigsaw could still be a jigsaw with only two pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's it whet the feck !!!!!!!!
> 
> well not quite . but mostly
> 
> i've edited the number of chapters to have 21 in total. hopefully i'll be able to get an epilogue up soon because i promised myself i'd finish this before 2017 finishes and then that's where yall come in!
> 
> you get to choose two scenes from the entire fic that you'd like to be from dan's perspective! whether it's his initial reaction to having a stranger's suitcase or getting to know phil or anything really. it's up to you :')
> 
> anyway here comes the sap
> 
> thank you sososososo much for the continued support and lovely comments both here and on tumblr (i'm awrfhi there holla) i probably wouldn't have been able to finish this lil beast without you lmao. 2018 will be the year i actually get my shit together and write more so watch this space for other fics to come! 
> 
> until then i hope you're all doing well and thank you one more time <3


	19. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the epilogue! hope u enjoy <3
> 
> (details about the two bonus chapters is at the end) :')

“For the last time, no,” Dan sighed. “Imagine when she’s older and she decides to look through a photo album. She’d be mortified.”

“But she looks so cute in it,” Phil protested.

Unaware of the argument going on in front of her, the little toddler sat on the edge of the bed, her thumb in her mouth and eyes bright. They were her most prominent feature; as soon as the adoption agency had paired them with her, they knew she was the one.

“It’s a fucking pumpkin costume. I hate to be the aggressive Dad but she has so many other options.”

“Like what?”

Phil wasn’t too sure why he was being so stubborn about what their daughter should wear. Dan’s job involved having an artistic eye, and as his career had progressed he’d taken more of an interest in high fashion. Even if he had to put up with his numerous rants about how Tisci should have never left Givenchy, he didn’t mind them a lot. There were worse things in the world to put up with.

“She has her little pinafore dress or the trousers with that knitted jumper. Hell, put her in that matching tartan outfit your mum gave us. Anything’s better.”

“Dan, please,” he whispered, running his hand down his arm. The effect it had on him was still something Phil could never quite wrap his head around. How had they been so lucky?

Dan’s free arm grabbed Phil’s wrist and pulled him towards him. “I see what you’re up to, Lester.”

“What am I up to?” he teased, his breath fanning over Dan’s cheeks.

“You’re trying to turn me on so you can get Thea to wear the pumpkin costume.”

They were pressed so close together that Phil could feel Dan getting slightly excited. His eyes flickered down momentarily.

“I don’t think I even had to try.”

“Fine,” he hissed. “Fine. She can wear it this once. But I’m making dinner for the rest of this week.”

“Deal.”

A few minutes later, Phil had managed to wrestle Thea into the pumpkin costume. He then brushed her hair gently as Dan looked for a pair of shoes for her.

“Would you like a hairclip, angel?”

“Yes,” she replied, nodding her head vigorously.

“Yes...?”

“Please!”

“Good girl.”

He rummaged through her collection of hairclips before settling for a simple blue one. Once it was in her hair, he clipped it into place and kissed her forehead.

“What do you say?”

“Thankoo Daddy,” she beamed.

Dan was leaning against the doorframe, a pair of shoes in his hand. Phil looked up at him and smiled.

“I’ll get her a coat and some gloves and then we can go.”

As they made their way down the stairs, any apprehension had melted away. Dan walked in front of Thea and held her hand in case she wobbled. It was a habit he’d picked up, and one that Phil couldn’t bring himself to stop. There was a fine line between letting her learn things for herself and being considerate of Dan’s feelings.

Outside, it was chillier than expected. There were a few people milling about on the streets, but none commented on Thea’s outfit or gave her any strange looks. Even if they did, he was sure they’d see the humour in it. It wasn’t like she didn’t want to wear it.

“So,” Phil began, turning to Dan. “Where are we going today?”

“How about we go along the Thames for a change?”

“That sounds good to me.”

London in winter took on a different feel. For the past couple of years he’d lived in it, Phil had picked up on little details that he enjoyed and stored away in the recesses of his mind. Windows became cloudy with condensation, people on the streets bundled up warm and the air was filled with ghosts of hot breaths. Despite the freezing temperatures, it was his favourite time of year.

On the journey to nowhere in particular, the two would point out objects and explain them to Thea. Every once in a while, they’d enter a shop so she could rest a little and they could show her even more new and exciting things.

The shop they’d entered sold some teddy bears that Thea seemed interested in. Some were nearly as big as Phil and some were small enough for her to carry in her tiny gloved hands. Among the teddy bears was a collection of farmyard animals. Phil remembered reading Thea a book on various animals and the noises they made, and his eyes lit up.

“Hey, angel,” he said to her softly. “Do you know what this is?”

“Cow!”

“And what noises do cows make?” Dan asked, crouching down beside the two of them.

“Moo!”

“That’s right! What about this one?” Setting the cow down, Phil picked up a small plushie pig with beads for eyes.

“Oink!”

“That’s the sound they make, baby,” Dan said encouragingly. “What are they called?”

Thea blinked, uncertain.

“Oink.”

“They’re called pigs,” Phil corrected her. “Repeat after me: pig.”

“Pick!”

“Well done!”

Seeming content with herself, Thea toddled away to look at some of the other wares the shop had to offer.

“We’ll work on her ‘g’s,” Dan murmured before chasing after her.

In the heat of the moment, Phil decided to buy a few of the animals they’d shown to Thea. They’d been in the shop for the best part of half an hour, and it seemed rude to leave empty handed after spending such a long time in there. The shopkeeper placed them in a bag and handed them over once he’d paid.

When Thea had recovered a while, they left the shop and continued walking. The shops soon fizzled out until they could see the Thames in all its glory. It wasn’t a clean river by any means, but it was iconic in a certain way. People on both banks had stopped to take photos of it.

As soon as Thea stood still, Dan tried to take photos of her, but she was at the stage where she couldn’t stop moving and exploring. Phil eventually picked her up and sat her on his shoulders, and the sudden height difference kept her preoccupied long enough for Dan to take a few decent photos.

From there, they moved along the river bank. Ahead, a few more shops came into view. Realising how hungry he was, Phil made a proposition.

“We could stop off at a café while we’re here,” he suggested. “Thea could have some juice and a snack.”

“I could do with some tea,” Dan agreed. “All this walking’s getting to me.”

“You’re 26 and in the prime of your life. There’s no excuse,” he chided. “Where should we go?”

“We’ll find one soon enough, I reckon.”

At first, all the cafés they looked at didn’t come across as being particularly child friendly. It didn’t seem to bother either of them, so they continued walking for a little longer. Suddenly, Dan stopped in his tracks. Phil nearly crashed into him before stopping and letting Thea off his shoulders.

“Why’d you stop?”

“Look.”

Looking up, Phil was greeted with a small coffee shop that gave him a strange sense of déjà vu. The windows were lined with boxes of all kinds of flowers and the open door had been painted a rustic shade of blue. As soon as he read the sign above, he was transported back in time.

The last time he’d been here, he was a completely different person. He was confused and lonely and looking for answers. At that point, he wasn’t even wearing his own clothes. He’d been caught in the middle of an odd situation, one he still found himself looking back to after so long.

Although the situation had been odd, it had ultimately given him a husband and daughter. He couldn’t find it within himself to have any regret over anything.

“Café au Lait,” he whispered, almost to himself. “I didn’t realise this place was still going.”

“Well,” Dan replied decisively. “It is, and it’d be wrong to not take a trip down memory lane.”

Inside, the interior had remained similar to what it was. The tables were now wooden, but the shop still sold all kinds of sweet treats which they displayed in glass cabinets. When they went to order, Phil recognised the éclair he’d had before.

“That’ll be £18.70 in total," the barista said. "Do you need a highchair for your daughter?”

“Yes, thank you,” he replied, slotting his card in the machine.

“Any preference of table?”

Scanning around the shop, his eyes landed on an empty table by the windows. He smiled fondly.

“How about that one down the end?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wasn't that cute hsdhfkjk i love nostalgia
> 
> anyway! the two bonus chapters will be *drum roll*
> 
> 1: dan when he realises he has phil's suitcase (chapter 1.5)  
> 2: the ~incident~ (chapter 10.5)
> 
> thank you so much for reading and i'll see u soon !!


	20. bonus chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy 2018! i was supposed to finish this last year! oh well!
> 
> i hope u enjoy <3

There was a first time for everything.

When Dan was 4, he lost his first tooth. His first kiss was 15, his first time was 17, his first boyfriend was 20, the list went on. He’d lived quite a lot of life so far, but apparently not enough, for at the age of 23, he found himself sitting in his apartment with a stranger’s suitcase.

He checked the entire case several times for any form of identification. There was nothing. What kind of moron didn’t even leave at least a visible phone number somewhere? Sighing, he abandoned his plans of trying to get the suitcase open and went to get a cup of tea to soothe his sudden headache.

While he waited for the kettle to boil, he decided to call Claire. He was capable of handling this by himself if he needed to, but he wanted a second opinion on how to tackle the situation.

“Hey,” she said, her voice as cheerful as ever. “How was Barcelona?”

“Barcelona was good, but I have a problem.”

“Trust you to cut to the chase. What’s your problem?”

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“Christ, Dan, I won’t.”

“Good. I, uh, hm. I accidentally took the wrong suitcase from the baggage carousel at Heathrow and said suitcase has no formal identification and _basically_ I’m fucked.”

Surprisingly enough, Claire was true to her word. Instead of a stifled giggle, the only audible sound Dan could hear was a small whistle, so quiet he barely caught it. While it wasn’t a dangerous situation by any means, it was a tad bizarre.

“Okay, slow down. I’m guessing you’ve called Heathrow and all that jazz?”

“Of course. Any stolen or lost items and my responsibility, apparently.”

“That’s the same thing they say to everybody,” she said. Dan could tell from the tone of her voice that she was frowning. “And there’s definitely no way of knowing who the suitcase belongs to?”

“I’ve checked everywhere. There’s nothing.”

There was a pause. Giving Claire time to think, he poured hot water from the kettle into a mug and added a teabag. Green tea seemed to perk him up regardless of the time of day or situation. After taking a sip, he could already feel at least a molecule of stress melt away.

“Is there identification on your suitcase?” she asked.

Dan took the mug of tea with him and slumped on his sofa. “I have a nametag with a number on it.”

“Right,” she replied. “I think the best thing you can do right now is wait for a call.”

“What do I do if someone calls?”

“Why do you sound so anxious about it? It’s a good thing. If this person has your case and it happens that you have theirs, you can swap them back. You might even make a friend.”

“Lord knows I don’t have many of those right now.”

“There’s no need to be so pessimistic,” she chided. “We can talk more about this tomorrow.”

Any effect the green tea had just had was almost immediately reversed. He had meetings he needed to go to, and the only vaguely smart clothes he owned were in his suitcase which _just so happened_ to be in the hands of a stranger. It was too bad to be true.

“About that.”

“Mm?”

“I took the chinos with me to Barcelona.”

“You can go and buy some new clothes?” Claire countered, bemused. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“Oh yeah. I’ll go and do that now, then. Thanks a million.”

“No problem. I’m so glad I’m a lesbian.”

Dan suppressed a laugh as he hung up. Downing the rest of his tea, he went to rummage through the clothes he _did_ have in his wardrobe for his current mission: buying himself some new work attire.

Since he had a tendency to pack his good clothes wherever he went, he wasn’t expecting anything good out of what remained. His confirmed suspicions were true, as the best he could find was a partially crumpled grey jumper with a neckline that dipped so low his stomach was nearly visible. Assessing himself in the mirror, he figured what he currently had on wasn’t terrible.

While he was putting his coat on, his phone rang. At once he sprung to life. The coat was discarded as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and ran back to his bedroom to answer. Losing signal while potentially being on the phone to a stranger would be mortifying.

The number wasn’t one he recognised. Feeling hope stir in his chest, he answered the call.

“Hello?”

“H-hi!” a voice replied. It had hints of an accent – Mancunian? Liverpudlian? He couldn’t tell.

“Hello,” he repeated, his heartrate beginning to speed up. “Who’s this?”

“Uh... you don’t know me, but my name’s Phil. Phil Lester. I, uh, got back from a flight yesterday and I think I accidentally took your suitcase instead of my own?”

Dan nearly dropped the phone in surprise. Every conceivable curse word echoed around his mind. A fraction of the weight seemed to have been lifted off his shoulders.

“Sweet Jesus. Thank you so much for calling me. And you’re sure it’s mine?”

“Well, I have a medium sized navy Samsonite which has this number on it. If you’re Daniel Howell, I’m fairly certain it’s yours.”

Hope morphed into overwhelming relief, the likes of which he’d never experienced before. Phil had his suitcase. Things would be alright. The world wouldn’t spontaneously combust tomorrow. Phil had his suitcase!

“That would be correct,” he replied, his sudden happiness making his voice shake. “Which leads me to believe I have your suitcase? They are very similar.”

“They are,” Phil agreed. “I’m hoping you have mine, anyway. Would you be available at some point soon to swap them back?”

Realising how blocked up his schedule was, he silently groaned. The sooner he could get his case back the better, but he had barely more than an hour free for at least 2 days. That would be enough time to do the swap over, but hadn’t Claire mentioned making a new friend? It was worth a shot.

“If only that were possible. I know you want to get your stuff back, believe me, I do too, but I’m super busy the next couple of days.” Putting himself in Phil’s shoes, an idea popped into his mind. “If you want, though, you can borrow some of my things. I don’t mind.”

“Really?” Phil asked. His voice was tinged with relief. At least, that was what Dan hoped was the case.

“I don’t see why not. It’s better than wearing the same outfit for days on end. Besides...” he trailed off, feeling a twinge of guilt, “I was hoping you’d let me do the same.”

“I, uh, of course! But your padlock requires a key?”

Shit. Of course it did. “That’s a very good point. I’m sure there are ways of breaking into a suitcase without unlocking it. Google has answers for everything.”

There was a lull in the conversation, during which Phil (presumably) took Dan’s advice and saw what Google had to offer.

“It actually does, would you believe it. And by the way, you’re more than welcome to borrow my clothes as well. The code’s 641.”

Dan remembered Phil’s padlock needing a code. “Oh yeah. Thanks. And thank you for reaching out to me, too. I’ll sleep a little easier tonight knowing where my things are.”

“I will as well. Bye, Daniel.”

Phil hadn’t specified how old he was. Dan silently hoped he wasn’t the same age as his grandma, someone who refused to call anyone anything else other than their ‘God given name’. Daniel was such a pretentious name. He still resented his parents a little for not simply calling him Dan.

“Oh, please, call me Dan. Daniel’s so uptight, don’t you think?”

“If you say so. Goodbye, Dan.”

“That’s better. Goodbye, Phil.”

As the line went dead, Operation: Get New Work Attire had turned into Operation: Figure Out More About Phil Via His Suitcase. It wasn’t quite as catchy as the first, but he didn’t care. When the code had been entered, he unzipped the case and peered in at the contents.

The first thing Dan learned about Phil was that he was most likely a frequent flyer; everything packed in his case was thrown in with the carelessness that only frequent flyers had, the kind where they spend half their lives packing cases when they could be doing better things with their time.

Digging deeper, he noted that Phil had a liking for bright clothes, particularly collared shirts and socks. Since most of it appeared to be from Topman, he hoped he wasn’t assuming too much when he guessed that Phil and he were probably around the same age. For some reason, that made him feel better. Who knew? He might have a potential friend in him.

“That’s enough snooping,” he whispered to himself. This felt wrong – uncomfortable, even. The last time he’d remembered feeling this uncomfortable was when a certain individual was still a part of his life. Frowning, he texted Claire.

_is He Who Shall Not Be Named at the meetings tomorrow_

**_oh honey :( if he is i’ll be your personal bodyguard_ **

**_also any updates?_ **

_yes actually! he called me. we both have each other’s suitcases and we’re gonna swap them back the day after tomorrow. in the meantime i’m stuck with my wannabe investigative journalism and he has permission to borrow my clothes lmao_

As he was typing, another text from Phil popped up.

_Hi Dan! This is Phil (suitcase guy). I was just wondering whether your offer extended to toiletries too? The hotel shampoo’s terrible. Thanks! Phil_

While it wasn’t the first text he’d anticipated coming from Phil, it wasn’t the most unusual request he’d ever heard. During the time it took for Claire to text back, he wrote a reply.

_hey phil! feel free. hotel shampoo is always terrible. dan_

Claire still hadn’t replied. Padding to the kitchen, he decided to make another mug of tea and plan for the upcoming meetings he had. It was one of the final reviews of the current exhibition before everything was fixed into place for the public, but he was nothing if not a perfectionist. Every detail mattered.

Two mugs of tea later, Claire had finally bothered to reply.

**_this is too much to handle. lunchtime tomorrow we’re discussing this young man_ **

_yes ma’am_

-

This had to be a dream.

Just when he’d been planning to drift off and have a pleasant night’s sleep, Phil decided to call him. Odd choice of time, but nothing too strange or startling, right? Wrong. He’d said he sounded like a baby bear – a baby bear. A fucking cub. He really didn’t have the energy or emotional capacity to be handling this.

Dan had just spent the entire day hiding behind Claire’s shoulder and fighting colleagues over whether _that Rothko piece_ deserved its place (which it did, thank you very much.) His brain was scrambled and his arms were tired from all the angry flailing he’d done earlier. Now he had to deal with an oddly suggestive call from a stranger.

A simple coffee wasn’t a terrible proposition by any means. It could be as short and carefully polite as he wanted it to be, in a location public enough to demand attention if he needed help. He wasn’t sure why he would need help, but the thought alone was enough to satiate the anxious part of his brain.

Squinting at his phone, which read 02:31, he groaned and slumped backwards onto his bed. Even if it wasn’t a dream, the chances of him fully remembering what happened were slim. Tiredness flooded through him. Sleep seemed like a good way to forget the events of the past half hour.

The next morning, during a coffee break, he decided to call Phil back. Part of him needed to know if his mind was making things up or he was reading too much into the current situation. Chances were that he was, and clarification was never a bad thing.

“Hello?” Phil answered. His voice sounded slightly husky – hungover? Sore throat? Both?

“Hi Phil,” he replied. “It’s Dan.”

The mention of his name seemed to do something, as the line seemed muffled for a moment. “Oh, hi Dan! Why, uh, why’d you call?”

“To confirm you’re alright for later?”

“What’s happening later? Sorry, it must have slipped my mind.”

Dan caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror, his face a mixture of surprise and relief. He didn’t remember what happened the night before. The power was now in his hands – he got to decide where they went from there.

A coffee with Phil didn’t sound _terrible_ though. If anything, it might be quite pleasant.

“You offered to meet for a coffee?” he began, phrasing it as a sort of open-ended question. “I don’t have enough time to swap our stuff back unfortunately but it would be nice to put a face to a name.”

That wasn’t entirely true. He had lunch with Claire for the second day in a row and a final one hour meeting, but after that he was free to spend his afternoon as he pleased. However, with any social situation came adjustment periods; he needed at least half an hour to process every single possible way in which he’d screwed up and berate himself.

“Absolutely! So, uh, when and where were you thinking?”

He’d just said yes. Oh shit. Dan hadn’t anticipated making it this far. Oh _shit_.

“How about...” he quickly wracked his brains, “Café au Lait? It’s a fairly new coffee shop but it’s really lovely.”

“It sounds lovely! What time would be okay?”

“This’ll sound oddly specific, but 3:45? I have an hour to spare then.”

There was brief hiatus in the conversation. “I can do then. I look forward to meeting you.”

“As do I. See you soon, Phil.”

He let go of a breath he didn’t realise he was even holding in. That call was certainly something.

A few hours later, Dan found himself barrelling into Café au Lait nearly ten minutes late. It wasn’t a café he visited regularly, but when he did, it never failed to impress. The interior design was second to none, and their selection of tea was out of this world.

Scanning around, he tried to pinpoint who Phil could be. When he eventually found him, he froze. The chances of Phil being someone he recognised were second to none, but something about the way his hair fell slightly across his face reminded him of a person he’d seen while in Barcelona.

No. That was silly. He was projecting whatever emotions he had onto someone else like a dumb protagonist in some poorly written adult fiction. He wasn’t a character in a book. Then again, even the most clichéd of books always made sense where real life didn’t have to.

Walking over to where Phil was sitting, he tried to compose himself by repeating ‘it isn’t him’ a million times over. Taking in a breath, he said “are you Phil?”

The man who looked up at him (and who also happened to currently be wearing his clothes) paused, possibly unsure of what to say. Now that he was closer to him, Dan had been able to establish that it was, in fact, the same stranger who’d caught his attention in Barcelona.

Phil’s eyes were filled with light from outside and _god_ , they were stupidly blue. Maybe being a book character wasn’t so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading !!
> 
> bonus chapter 2 will go up when i've finished writing it (which hopefully shouldn't be too long as I wrote most of it before this chapter lmao)
> 
> see u soon <3


	21. bonus chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is it! the final ever chapter :( i hope u enjoy loves

Dan hated parties.

To be honest, who didn’t? They were overcrowded and loud and chaotic. If you drank, the night passed by in a blur of unrecognisable faces and your entire body tingling; if you didn’t, you had the pain of witnessing everyone else slowly lose themselves around you. Being the only sober person in a room was strangely isolating.

At least it was with people he knew – that much he was grateful for. They were all his colleagues in some shape or form, so instead of making small talk he could talk about upcoming exhibitions or who’d been slacking off on the job. Sometimes parties were a necessary evil to keep up with all the gossip.

Admittedly, the location chosen for the party was beautiful. The Dorchester was one of those hotels he’d known about for some time but never envisaged himself being inside – _royalty_ had been here, for God’s sake. The Queen herself had set foot inside the very pavilion he was going to.

The pavilion in question certainly lived up to its expectations. Dan had listened to Claire go on about the inspiration behind it for ages – something about Sleeping Beauty and 1940s theatre. When he’d looked around a little, he could only agree with what she’d said.

Dan knew enough about social situations to know that the earlier you arrived, the better. There were less people, and it was easier to find a wall to cling to or a corner to hide in. Luckily for him there was an outside terrace. When it got darker, he’d be virtually unrecognisable out there.

Since Claire and he were the only two who were there, they decided to look around together. The excitement was glistening in her eyes as she took in all the little details; birds that adorned the door handles, intricate designs etched into the carpet and lining the walls. The level of care dedicated to this one room was impressive.

Through the pavilion lay the terrace, complete with fountains, perfectly manicured shrubbery and a view that made Dan gasp. To his left, he could see endless buildings and lights that caught the back of his eyes, and to his right, the still waters of the Thames. London was a polluted city, which obscured the stars above with a silky veil of cloud, but the occasional one peeked through.

“Damn,” he muttered. “This is stunning.”

“At this rate, your next exhibition will be 17 different portraits of the same sky,” Claire replied. “Abstract expressionism clearly isn’t where your head’s at.”

Dan guffawed. “You’re harsh. Abstract expressionism, believe it or not, is one of my passions.”

“Hm.”

“That’s not a bad idea, though.”

“What isn’t?”

“A space themed exhibition,” Dan clarified. “Some kind of amalgamation of art and science. It could be fun.”

“You can thank me later,” Claire said, facing away from Dan. “As for now, though, a cocktail sounds good.”

“Nothing like an overpriced mojito to get the party flowing.”

Claire snorted. “You can’t say that. Lord knows how much they paid for this venue.”

“Too much,” Dan muttered under his breath as they made their way back into the pavilion.

To one side, a table complete with cocktails had been set up. Each cocktail looked suitably over-the-top, brandished with some slice of fruit or a rim covered with salt or served in a gleaming glass. Choosing what looked like a strawberry daiquiri, Dan took a sip and was surprised at the sweetness of it.

Claire, being an indecisive person, made sure to read all the descriptions before choosing the same drink as Dan. When she saw they’d both opted for the same drinks, she smiled knowingly.

“You always get a daiquiri,” she mused, swirling the drink around in her glass.

“I know what I’m about,” he retorted. “It’s easier having a drink to make a beeline for. Saves time.”

“Are you still that bad with parties?”

He nodded.

“It never used to be like that,” Claire murmured. “When you first got the job, you were such a social butterfly. It was a little off-putting.”

“I was,” Dan sighed, the daiquiri turning sour in his mouth. “Then stuff happened. Now I’m not.”

Claire’s eyes softened. “You know he could be coming to this tonight?”

“If he knows what’s good for him, he won’t,” he replied, feeling oddly determined. “Unless he’s moved onto someone else.”

“Dan.”

“What?”

“You don’t have to do this now.”

“I can’t keep it buried forever.”

“Well, no, but now’s not the time. There are people arriving. If you find somewhere on the terrace to stay, I can lookout for him in here. He won’t come anywhere near you. I promise.”

“I’ll be fine, Claire. I’m an adult. I can be civil.”

“I know you can be civil, but you don’t have to do this here. Not where someone can eavesdrop.”

He downed the remnants of the daiquiri and immediately lunged for another. If this was going to be anything close to enjoyable, he needed at least some alcohol in his system. That way if he screwed up he could blame it on intoxication rather than a lack of coordination and a flaming desire to be anywhere else.

Before he could go anywhere, Claire put a supportive hand on his shoulder, forcing him to turn back to her. Her lips were pressed together in a firm line.

“I mean it, Dan. He won’t touch you.”

“Fine.” He tightened his grip on the glass. “But please enjoy yourself as well. Text me any gossip.”

“Of course.”

As other people started entering, Dan took his cue to step outside and find a hiding place. With darkness slowly settling in, it didn’t sound like too challenging a prospect. Moments later he’d settled himself on a bench in the corner where the terrace wrapped around, sipping his now slightly too warm drink and searching for an internet connection.

London was full of free wifi waiting to be snatched up. When he was connected, he started scrolling through every app possible to try to pass the time.

His mind flickered to Phil and the empty bench beside him suddenly seemed a fraction bigger. He was tempted to text him and complain about how bored he was, but he refrained. He’d taken enough of his time already. Tonight was for Phil to spend quality time with old friends and for him to drink copious amounts of alcohol and avoid interaction.

The sound drifting out to him grew louder. He paused, letting seconds trickle by. Having another glass of something would at least keep him occupied until he could leave. Sighing, he stood up and made his way inside.

For such a small room, it held a concerningly large amount of people. Dan found himself weaving between small groups until he could finally retrieve another glass and duck outside again.

A sudden rush of cool air hit him. It was a pleasing contrast to the crowded heat inside and he let it wash over his skin.

There were a few people taking in the view from the edge of the terrace. Walking over, he could see why; the whole of London stretched out before him, inky darkness punctuated with streetlights and faraway neon glows. Above, even more stars than before were peeking through. In such a loud city, it felt like the most beautiful moment of quiet.

He pulled out his phone to take a picture. Photography wasn’t his forté, and iPhone cameras were notoriously shitty in near-darkness, but he wanted one positive to take away with him. Maybe he could stop off at PJ’s and spend some time complaining there.

Behind him, the noise grew. Turning around, he saw someone approaching, with Claire catching up moments later. Her eyes were wide with panic.

“Hi,” the man said to him. Dan gulped.

“Will,” he replied, trying and failing to keep his voice steady. “It’s been a while. How are things?”

“Better in some ways, worse in other ways. That’s life.”

“How so?”

“Work’s better. The rest has gone to shit,” he muttered bluntly.

“Will,” Claire interjected. “Stop.”

“Can I not have a single conversation with Dan without you hovering over him like you’re his mother?” Will fired back. “We’re done. Am I not allowed to be friendly?”

“Out of all the times and places you choose to be friendly it just _has_ to be where other people can see,” she snapped. “You’ve had a million other opportunities to do this.”

“It has been a few months,” Dan offered. “There’s no point apologising early for the sake of it, or anything, but...”

“But what?”

Taking in a breath, Dan steeled himself. “But this – this isn’t going to pan out however you planned for it to. I’m here to drink expensive alcohol and be alone. If I wanted to dig up the past I’d call you.”

“You never call me,” Will said softly, his voice filled with a strange kind of longing that Dan couldn’t remember hearing for some time.

“For good reason,” Claire replied. “Leave the man alone. You’ve hurt him enough.”

“You think I don’t know that? You think it doesn’t kill me inside to look at him now, knowing the shit I put him through? I’ll never forgive myself! I don’t care if it’s dramatic, damn it. I won’t.”

The sincerity of his words stirred something in Dan. For so long he’d point-blank refused to talk to Will, convinced he’d never change and that the past belonged in the past. At the same time, as his future was slowly unfurling, he knew he couldn’t carry the weight of what happened forever.

Phil would want him to have closure. Claire would want him to have closure too, however angry she was at Will right now. The only thing holding him back was himself.

“Will,” he almost whispered. Two pairs of eyes pointed his way. “This isn’t going to pan out how you expected it to. I’m not going to run into your arms like some kind of pathetic excuse of a person who doesn’t know their own worth. I don’t even know if that’s what you want.”

“I just want to apologise properly.”

“I want you to apologise properly too.” He huffed out a laugh, the sound slightly strangled. “There’s a corner around there for talking.”

“Now isn’t a good time,” Claire warned, her voice edging on desperation.

“I don’t think there’ll ever be a good time.”

It hurt to blatantly ignore Claire like that. She was only trying to do the right thing, he knew that, but now felt like the right opportunity and he wasn’t sure when another one like this would come up.

Will followed him wordlessly around the corner and sat as far away as humanly possible from him on the bench, his eyes downcast.

_So now what?_ Surprisingly, Dan hadn’t got that far. For one, he hadn’t even considered giving Will the time of day, regardless of what the conversation was about. Suddenly trying to actually engage with him in some shape or form was hard to wrap his head around.

“I might as well spit it out,” Will spoke up. “There’s a lot of shit I did that I never apologised for and... better late than never?”

“I’m listening.” Dan was surprised at how cold he sounded.

“You were just a kid. You’re not supposed to have your life together at 20, everyone knows that. I pushed you too far, Dan, and I’m sorry. I am.”

“I don’t resent you for that,” he replied. “We were pretty intense. All or nothing.”

“All or nothing,” Will echoed. “When you said you weren’t ready, my mind automatically went to nothing. I freaked out, questioned everything.”

“Will.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t resent you for that. I just said.”

“You act like you do.” His words slurred together like he was trying to force them out of his mouth too quickly.

“I don’t hate you because of that car journey. I hate you because of how everything changed afterwards. I hate you because I second guess how I feel all the time. What if I’m falling too deep? What if they ask too much of me? What if- what if they turn up on my doorstep drunk and I’m dumb enough to let them in? What if they leave me bleeding on my kitchen floor?”

“Dan, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“And I accept your apology.”

“You do?”

“Yes. But it doesn’t mean what you did was okay. It doesn’t make everything suddenly better. I don’t want to see you anymore.”

“Not even as friends, then.”

Dan felt something akin to anger bubble up his throat. “We can’t be friends after all of that. I don’t need that constant reminder in my life. You’ve had your closure, I’ve had mine.”

“Not... not quite.”

When Dan looked over at Will, his eyes had flickered down to his lips. He felt a strange sensation course through him, one where he felt freezing cold and white hot simultaneously. The anger in his throat started to feel like bile.

“You...”

“Just once, Dan. Then I’ll leave you alone. Please.”

Will took a tentative step towards him. Although he could feel his heart drumming uncertainly in his chest, he made no movement to step away.

“Say the word and I’ll stop.” Will’s eyes were just as green as he remembered them being. “I mean it.”

“I’m seeing someone else,” Dan blurted out in reply.

“Oh,” Will said, his voice going quiet. “He’s a lucky man.”

“I’m the lucky one,” he sighed. “Which... is why whatever’s happening here shouldn’t happen. He still doesn’t know about you. This feels wrong.”

“You were a part of my life for such a long time, Dan. I promise I’ll leave you alone after tonight.”

“You just said ‘say the word and I’ll stop’! I’ve said the word, Will. No. I’m not doing this.”

A small part of his mind reminded him to keep his temper, but his veins were swimming with stupid amounts of anger and confusion and anxiety. The smell of something alcoholic was wafting off the man stood in front of him. Alarm bells went off in his mind.

_He won’t take no for an answer_.

Sure enough, Will raised a hand to caress Dan’s cheek. Dan sidestepped away from him, trying to edge his way out. His movements didn’t go unnoticed.

Then wet warmth was spreading across his lips and a vicelike hand clamped around the back of his neck and Dan’s head was spinning with the taste of strawberry. The last time these hands had touched him was when he’d been punched.

Everything came rushing back; the sound of his nose cracking, the white kitchen sink dotted with blood, how his entire body trembled in bed that night. All of the worst memories he could think of were simultaneously brought back.

His eyes were shut. When he opened them and saw how Will’s were closed, he snapped. Physical strength wasn’t his forte by any means, but he shoved at Will’s chest as hard as he could, the strain causing an anguished groan to escape his mouth.

Then he saw Phil.

As if being leapt upon by his ex-boyfriend wasn’t bad enough, he’d just made eye contact with his (potential) new one. Phil barely said a word before whirling around, unable to do anything else.

As soon as Dan had prised himself off Will, the spike of emotions got the better of him. He slapped him, as if that could ever be payback for everything Will had put him through, all the pain and emotional baggage and how it had made him break into pieces internally.

Will’s hand fell from Dan’s neck and went to cradle his cheek. “What the fuck was that for?”

“You never know when to stop, do you?”

Phil had vanished. Dan’s pulse shot up again almost instantly, his legs propelling him forward. He couldn’t let him get away without an explanation.

“Phil-”

Further and further he ran, off the balcony and between colleagues until he saw Phil in the lift, repeatedly jamming a button to try to get the doors closed. The mixture of emotions he felt was beyond comprehension. No oxygen was reaching his lungs.

“Why did you come here?” he asked, praying that Phil would let him iron things out. Will couldn’t sabotage one of the only good things he had going for him.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Phil replied, his voice wobbling. “Look how well that turned out.”

They were just as upset as each other, for entirely different reasons. It was a huge misunderstanding, he knew that, but there wasn’t a quick way of communicating what had happened to Phil.

“Don’t say that,” he begged, any chances of success slowly slipping away.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

He felt tears threatening to spill. “I swear it isn’t what it looks like.”

“I don’t give a fuck, Dan! I know what I saw! Are you just going to stand there and pretend you didn’t have your tongue down some guy’s throat?”

The past two weeks suddenly felt like the calm before the storm. Phil was shaking with anger. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and stroke his arm, or smooth away the creases on his forehead.

“It wasn’t consensual. I... don’t know what else I can say.”

“You’ve said enough. I don’t know what I can believe anymore.”

“Phil, let me come into the lift and explain. Please.”

It had never been like this with Will. Whenever they fought, Dan would accept he was wrong and apologise. Will would brush off his apology and they’d forget anything had ever happened. With Phil, though, neither of them were wrong. They both had reasons for why they were feeling what they were feeling.

On some level, Dan felt like he and Will fought for the sake of fighting. The emotional toll it took on him never affected Will, no matter how intense the argument. In that moment, though, he could tell from looking at Phil’s broken expression that neither of them wanted to be doing this. Neither of them wanted this to be the way things panned out.

“Get the hell away from me.” His eyes were glassy. “This whole thing was a mistake anyway.”

The words cut deeper than Phil probably intended for them to. “A mistake?”

“You heard me. I wish none of this had ever happened.”

“But Phil-”

The doors shut before he could finish his sentence. He watched as the number dropped from 8 to 0, each increment making him fall more apart.

-

“You dated this dickhead?”

“He wasn’t a dickhead at the start,” Dan murmured, rolling over in his bed. It had been days, but it felt like months. Time never felt real when his bedroom was dark and musty.

“He was, you just didn’t know about it.”

“This isn’t helping.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I just-” PJ’s voice wavered. “Talking to you feels like I’m going behind Phil’s back.”

“You shouldn’t be sorry,” Dan reasoned. “This is my fault and I’m going to fix it.”

“He’s in Paris, Dan. There isn’t much you can do.”

“In your opinion, no. In my opinion there are things I can do.”

PJ scoffed. “Like what? Fly there and track him down?”

“That’s a possibility.”

“Dan? You’re crazy!”

“‘Name one genius that ain’t crazy.’”

“Don’t do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well there u go
> 
> uh there's too many ways i could be sappy here so i'll just keep it simple and say thank you. thank you so much to anyone who's read this and left kudos or commented or shared or anything. this is the first full fic i've written! (and probably the last ngl i'm too lazy and i have no self esteem) i appreciate u all <3
> 
> feel free to subscribe bc i have some ideas for other fics that i might write when i have the time. i've been reading over this fic and there are flaws/imperfections/weird things i do that i want to improve on and i want my future writing to be better so :')
> 
> hmu on tumblr! i'm @awrfhi
> 
> and if i'm feeling extra super emo i might make a playlist of songs i listened to while writing this lmao


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